Hogwarts and the New Headmaster
by ChemistKen
Summary: When Viridis Olwyn is offered the chance to compete for the position of Hogwarts headmaster, it's a dream come true. But something is wrong with the school, and if Viridis doesn't figure out what's happening, he may end up being the last headmaster Hogwarts will ever have.
1. Chapter 1

1\. AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR

With one last desperate push, the owl squeezed through the crack in the stone and forced its way inside the crumbling wall. It scrambled along the narrow fissure, careful to protect the slip of paper clasped in its beak. Jagged bits of rock and mortar raked the bird's wings as it pushed deeper into the building, and several feathers were lost before the crack opened up into a dimly lit room large enough to hold the entire Hogwarts owlery.

The exhausted bird landed on a nearby rafter, a thick wooden beam cracked and splintered with age, and peered down into the room. Its bright yellow eyes darted about as they adjusted to the candlelight flickering up from the floor far below.

The building had seen better days. Once an imposing four-story tower that had commanded the surrounding countryside, its upper floors had long since collapsed, leaving the structure little more than a hollow shell consisting of a single, very tall room. A few modest pieces of furniture lay scattered about the room. A desk and chairs, several trunks, two bookcases, a small wooden table, and a sofa, all illuminated by nearly two dozen candles floating ten feet above the floor. A young man with brown curls was sprawled across the sofa, his body partially hidden beneath a tattered blue blanket embroidered with the image of an eagle. His soft snores drifted up to the owl.

After shaking bits of mortar and dust from its wings, the owl leapt from the rafter and glided down to the sofa in a long spiral, careful not to disturb the floating candles. It fluttered to a landing on the back of the sofa and dropped the note on the man's chest, then let out a screech that sent half a dozen mice scurrying off to shadowed corners. The man didn't move. The owl waited what it considered a reasonable length of time before hopping onto the armrest and pecking the man's ear.

The man brushed feebly at the owl without opening his eyes. "Go away, Orielle," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "It's too early."

The owl tilted its head to one side, as if considering this, then hopped onto the man's chest and pecked his other ear, harder this time. The man's eyes popped open, and he raised his hand as if to push the owl away, then stopped and squinted at the bird in confusion. The owl grabbed the note with one scaly claw and tossed it in the man's face, then leapt into the air and disappeared back out the way it had come.

Viridis Olwyn stared blearily after the owl. It had been scarcely six inches tall, which meant it probably belonged to Dawn. He yawned and opened the note.

 _I'm bringing someone by your place this morning! Be ready._

 _D._

Viridis frowned. He hadn't talked to Dawn in over a month. Why would she be bringing someone by his house today? Shouldn't she be teaching a class? He lay there for a minute or two, still half asleep, trying to remember what day it was. Had Dawn mentioned something about this to him earlier? The feeling he'd forgotten something nagged at the fringes of his mind.

Another owl, even smaller than the first, darted in through a hole in one of the boarded-up windows. It circled the room twice before landing on Viridis's stomach. Without so much as a hoot, the owl dropped its note on his shirt, then launched itself back into the air and exited the building.

 _It's important you impress this person!_

Viridis pulled himself into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. Why all the cryptic messages? Who was he supposed to impress? And why?

He scarcely had the chance to consider these questions when yet a third owl zoomed out of the fireplace. It sailed over Viridis, dropped the note it held in its mouth, then wheeled about and disappeared back up the chimney. Viridis shook his head as he snatched the note out of the air. Why did Dawn always write in snippets?

 _And make sure your place is clean!_

He blinked. Now what was that supposed to mean? He glanced around the room. Clothes lay strewn about everywhere—tossed onto pieces of furniture, wadded up in piles on the floor, and draped over the suits of armor lining the walls. Used dishes were stacked precariously on the table, awaiting cleaning. Spiderwebs hung like tinsel between the floating candles.

Viridis crumpled the note into a ball, his cheeks burning. How did these messes keep happening? He tossed the note on the floor, then stood and searched for his wand, which he eventually found under a mismatched pair of socks hiding beneath last week's copy of the Daily Prophet.

He waved the wand in a circle and every pair of pants in the room stood and marched their way to his wardrobe, closely followed by shirts, socks, and shoes. With another flick of his wand, plates and glasses rose from the table and floated toward the sink. He grinned. Dawn worried too much.

A sudden pounding on the front door echoed through the house and Viridis whirled around, sending several of the plates crashing into the wall. Yellow mustard oozed down the already grimy stone.

He stared at the door. Dawn couldn't already be here, could she? For several seconds, he considered pretending he wasn't home, but the banging at the door became more insistent, accompanied by a man's muffled voice. Viridis let out a sigh of relief and headed for the door, traipsing across the large area rug with the Hogwarts crest woven into its fabric. He opened the door.

Mr. Ridley, a red-faced man with oily brown hair stood on the porch, rubbing his right leg. Viridis groaned. He knew he'd forgotten something.

Ridley raised his head and glared at Viridis. "Where is my report, Mister Olwyn? It was due last week, yet I have received nothing from you. Not even an owl. Am I going to have to call in the authorities? Or perhaps a few of my more… persuasive acquaintances?"

"No need for that," Viridis said, peering over Ridley's shoulder to see if he had, in fact, brought any such acquaintances. "I finished the report last night."

"Then why isn't it in my office now?" Ridley demanded, taking a menacing step toward Viridis.

Viridis backed away. "I'm sorry, sir. It was rather late last night when I finished it and I, uh, fell asleep. I planned to send it to you first thing this morning."

"This morning? It's almost eleven o'clock! My client has been waiting over a week for that report. He is most displeased."

Viridis swallowed. "I'm terribly sorry. It's just that I've been... busy."

Ridley waved his hand in dismissal. "Busy doing what, I wonder? Obviously not busy keeping your property in good order. Your sentry bushes are out of control. Attacked me on the way up your steps." He pointed to a hole in his trousers. "It's a wonder your neighbors don't complain."

"Sorry, sir. I don't get many visitors. And I don't go outside much."

"Then perhaps you should spend your time inside more wisely, that is, if you plan on remaining in this…dwelling of yours much longer. Money does not grow on trees, Mister Olwyn."

"Yes, sir, I understand."

"You do?" Ridley asked, his face turning an angrier shade of red. "Then why are you still standing here instead of bringing me my report?"

"What? Oh, yes, of course." Viridis backed away from the door, wondering exactly where he'd left the report. "I'll get it now. If you wouldn't mind waiting here…"

"I'll wait inside," Ridley snapped, casting a suspicious glance at the thorn-filled branches still quivering along the edges of the porch. He stepped into the house and stopped, his eyes widening at the hundreds of photographs hanging along the front wall. Each was a picture of Hogwarts or the surrounding grounds—the castle, the classrooms, the Great Hall, the greenhouses, the lake, the Quidditch field…

Ridley scowled. "What's with all the pictures of the school? Don't tell me you miss the place."

"Of course," said Viridis. "Don't you?"

"Hmmph, I was happy to be done with it after five years."

"Not me." Viridis grinned. "I could have stayed there forever."

Ridley rolled his eyes. "You'll forget about the school soon enough, once you've spent some time away from it. You only graduated, what, two or three years ago?"

Viridis winced. It'd been ten years since he'd graduated from Hogwarts, but with his youthful face and below average height he could still pass as a seventh year. His mother had told him he'd appreciate this trait when he was older, but most days he found it annoying.

Despite his disparaging remarks about Hogwarts, Ridley began examining the photographs in more detail, and Viridis took the opportunity to dash back into the main room. He headed for his desk, assuming that to be the most likely place he would have left the report. Unfortunately, the desk was buried under a mountain of books, papers, and dirty dishes that hadn't fit on the dinner table. He took out his wand and whispered a summoning charm.

" _Accio_ _report_."

With the sound of ripping paper, the top half of the twenty-page report flew out from beneath a pile of books and into his hand. Viridis gasped. The bottom half of each page was still somewhere on the desk. After a frantic glance at Ridley, who was still occupied with the photographs, Viridis threw himself at the desk and dug through the debris, knocking most of it to the floor as he searched for the rest of the report. When he finally located it, he slapped the two halves of the report together and aimed his wand at them.

" _Reparo_."

The two halves joined together seamlessly. Viridis grabbed the mended report and hurried back to Ridley, who snatched the papers out of his hand and scanned the first several pages. "Good, good," he murmured, smiling for the first time since his arrival. "The client will be quite satisfied."

Viridis checked his watch, wondering how much time he had before Dawn arrived. Ridley glanced up from the report. "Stop looking at your watch, young man," he growled. "It's rude. It's not as if you have more important things to do."

"Sorry, I'm expecting company."

"Someone from Gringotts, I presume? Here to foreclose on this… house?"

Viridis laughed weakly. "That's a good one, Mr. Ridley."

Ridley's face scrunched up as if he had eaten a Bertie Bott's vinegar-flavored bean.

"It's not good at all. A young man needs to act more responsibly if he plans on making anything of himself. Quite frankly, the only reason I allow you to pay off your debt in this manner is because you do such excellent work, better than anyone I've ever had. But the quality of your work does me no good if I don't receive your reports."

Viridis stared down at the floor and shuffled his feet. "I understand, Mr. Ridley. Really, I do. And I want to tell you again how much I appreciate the opportunity to study your magical antiques."

"Hmmph. Then demonstrate your appreciation by meeting your obligations in a timely manner. If this kind of behavior continues…"

"I promise it won't happen again, sir."

Ridley regarded Viridis skeptically for a moment, then reached into his pocket and produced a small object, a thin metal rod bent into the shape of a figure eight. He handed it to Viridis.

"Your next assignment. I have a buyer who might be very interested in this little trinket, but only if I can tell her exactly what it does. You have one week to answer that question."

"A week? That's not much—"

"One week, Mister Olwyn. Do not disappoint me or I swear this job will be your last. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Viridis answered, bowing slightly.

"Good." Ridley shoved the report back into Viridis's hands. "Send this to Mr. Robert Galbraith by owl immediately. Good day." With that, he turned and stalked out the door, scrambling down the steps past the bushes nipping at his ankles.

As soon as the door closed, Viridis rushed back to his desk, found an empty envelope and stuffed the report inside.

"Orielle, come here. I need you to deliver something."

A large grey owl with black flecks dotting her wings fluttered down from the shadows among the rafters and landed on his desk.

Viridis sealed the envelope with a wax stamp and held it out to the owl. "Take this to Mr. Robert Galbraith. Fly as fast as you can." Orielle ignored the envelope and tapped the empty bowl on the desk with her beak.

"Sorry, Orielle, but I need you to deliver this now. It's very important. You can have breakfast after you get back."

The owl fixed Viridis with an icy stare and made no attempt to take the envelope.

"I'm serious about this. You can eat later. Don't forget who's the owner here."

With a short, angry hoot, Orielle grabbed the envelope with her beak.

"That's better."

She flew up and perched on the frame of a massive painting of Hogwarts that hung above the fireplace. She leaned out over the edge, holding one corner of the envelope dangerously close to the flame of one of the floating candles.

Viridis gasped. "You wouldn't dare."

The envelope edged closer to the flame.

"All right, all right, you stubborn bird. You can have breakfast first."

Orielle glided back down and spit the envelope onto the desk.

"I'm letting you off easy this time," Viridis said as he opened a box of mouse-flavored owl treats and poured the contents into the bowl. "But don't make this a habit."

Orielle ignored him and ate the treats.

Viridis scowled, then pulled out his wand and continued casting cleaning spells. Whatever this visit was about, it had better be worth all this trouble.

By the time Sean Steed arrived at the village of Pringle Hill, he decided he didn't much care for buses. Professor Murmann had convinced him that using the Muggle mode of transportation would be an adventure, but after becoming lost on the way to the station, boarding the wrong vehicle twice, sitting in a traffic jam for over an hour, and spending the entire trip surrounded by Muggles who kept yammering into their shiny black boxes, Steed was quite sure he never wanted to ride one again.

As Steed exited the bus, he checked his reflection in the rear-view mirror. He was dressed in the same ensemble he always wore when traveling on official Ministry business—black three-piece suit, black tie, black shoes, and matching black bowler hat. His hair was neat and trim, with just enough grey to give him what he considered a distinguished look. Steed wasn't a vain man, but he'd learned that Muggles often paid less attention to him if he appeared well-to-do.

Steed ran a handkerchief across his brow. Despite the coolness of the late September morning, the cloth was already soaked with sweat. There was so much to do in the next few days—invitations to be sent, preparations to be made, along with a slew of minor details he probably hadn't thought of yet—and here he was, stuck out in the middle of nowhere. It didn't help that this trip would likely be a complete waste of time. This Olwyn fellow was almost certainly unqualified. But his name was on the list, therefore Steed was obliged to meet with him.

He shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket. Confound that Murmann. This was all his fault. Why had he waited till now to make the announcement? Why not a month ago? _Most_ inconvenient.

He was consulting a map of the town when a young lady with short blond hair stepped out from behind a crowd of sightseers and approached him. With her white blouse and jeans, she could easily have passed for a Muggle had it not been for the small owl sleeping on her shoulder. Her piercing blue eyes reminded Steed of a hawk.

"Good morning, Minister," she said. "How was the bus?"

With a start, Steed recognized her as the Care of Magical Creatures professor from Hogwarts. Unfortunately, he couldn't recall her name. "Good morning, Miss uh—"

"Mercher," she finished. "Dawn Mercher."

"Oh yes. Forgive me, Miss Mercher. I didn't recognize you without your instructor's robes." He glanced back at the bus and shuddered. "I'd rather not think about the trip, if you don't mind. Dealing with Muggles can be exhausting."

She laughed. "They're not so bad."

"If you say so." Steed watched the bus pull away, then turned back to her. "Were you waiting for me?"

"I heard you were visiting Viridis—I mean, Mr. Olwyn—this morning and I thought I'd tag along. Assuming you don't mind, of course."

He gave her a sharp look. "How did you know I would be coming today?"

"Professor Murmann mentioned it to me."

"I see," Steed said, his eyes narrowing. "But how did you know I'd be taking the bus?"

Mercher smiled. "He might have mentioned that too."

"Hmmm," Steed said, frowning again. "I usually do these interviews on my own."

"I understand, but I thought a familiar face might be helpful."

Steed shifted uneasily. He'd planned on visiting with Mr. Olwyn just long enough to check his name off the list and depart as quickly as possible. With Miss Mercher along, he'd have to stay for the entire interview. "Well… it's not standard procedure."

"But there's no rule against it, is there?" she said. "I promise not to get in the way."

She stared into his eyes with an intensity Steed found unsettling, and for a moment, he found himself back in school again, facing an instructor who suspected him of mischief. Had she guessed his intentions? He swallowed and looked away. Steed had been in the Ministry long enough to know that people like Miss Mercher didn't take no for an answer. She would be determined to go with him whether he liked it or not.

"Very well," he said, resigning himself to the loss of the entire morning. "Perhaps you can direct me to where he lives?"

"Up there," she answered, pointing to the top of the hill.

They walked up the road in silence.

"So you're acquainted with Mr. Olwyn, are you?" Steed asked after a while, removing the handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbing at his forehead.

"We were in the same year at Hogwarts."

"I see. And how would you describe him?"

"Smart. And very good with magic. The top student in our year. Did you know he set the record for the highest score ever on the NEWTs?"

"Yes," Steed said, "it was in his records. His academic achievements are most impressive, but there's more to the job than academics."

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a small owl that fluttered down and joined the other owl on Mercher's shoulder. Steed's eyes widened. They were two of the tiniest owls he'd ever seen.

"What breed of owl is that, if I might ask?"

"Elf owl," Mercher answered. "Small, but quick. Excellent for sending messages, though they're not much good with packages."

Steed nodded. He was used to the much larger Ministry owls.

"I always bring an owl or two when I leave Hogwarts," she said. "Never know when I'll need to dash off a quick note."

"Of course." Steed dabbed at his forehead again. Perhaps he could obtain most of the information he needed before they arrived at Olwyn's house. That would speed things up. "How would you describe Mr. Olwyn's personality?"

She pursed her lips. "Hmmm. He has a friendly disposition. Gets along well with others, makes friends easily. He's confident in his abilities. A bit on the quiet side, but he can yell when he needs to. And he loves solving mysteries."

"Is he the responsible sort? Someone you can depend on?"

"Definitely. He never missed an assignment back in school."

"How about his organizational skills?"

Her pause was almost imperceptible. "Excellent. During his years in Hogwarts, he was the head of both the Alchemist Club and the Wizard's Chess Club."

"Any more recent examples?"

She shrugged. "I don't see him as often as I used to."

"Hmmm," Steed murmured. "Keeps his house tidy, I presume? Cleanliness is very important."

Mercher gently stroked one of the owls on her shoulder. "I think you'll find his house in good order when we arrive."

"Sounds promising. A dirty house is a sign of weak character. Anything else I should know about Mr. Olwyn?"

"He was voted most likely to become an instructor at Hogwarts."

"Really?"

She nodded. "And he loves Hogwarts, too. He'd do anything for the school."

"That's good to hear. Very important." Steed took a small book from his pocket and jotted down a few notes. "How often would you say he goes back and visits the school? Maintaining a good relationship with the faculty is vital for this position."

She looked away before answering. "I'm not… entirely sure."

"Well, you've been an instructor at Hogwarts for several years now. Surely, he comes to see you when he visits. How many times have you seen him at Hogwarts in the past few years?"

"Well—I guess—I'm not sure he's ever been back."

Steed's pen froze. "Never?" His eyes narrowed. "I thought you said he cares for the school."

"He does. More than you would believe."

"Everyone I know goes back and visits the school on occasion. Is there some problem I should be made aware of?"

"No," Mercher said, perhaps a bit too quickly. "I think he's simply busy with his work. To be honest, I haven't seen Viridis much since we graduated. We mostly keep in touch by owl."

Steed frowned—he didn't care much for mysteries—and said nothing more for several minutes as they continued walking up the hill. The houses along the road were spaced farther apart now, the manicured lawns having given way to thick stands of brush and trees.

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of another small owl that swooped down and landed on Mercher's other shoulder. "Is that owl yours, too?" he asked hesitantly.

"Oh yes. I often bring more than one. It lets me keep up with what my friends are doing."

"Yes, of course." Steed consulted his notes again. "What does Mr. Olwyn do for a living? I assume a wizard of his talents is lucratively employed."

"He has his own business. He studies antique magical objects and figures out how they work. He's quite good at repairing them too."

"Does he employ others in this business?"

"He works by himself."

"Has he ever been in charge of anyone?"

"Not that I know of."

"Has he ever taught a class?"

"No."

"Hmmm," Steed said, placing the book back into his jacket pocket.

Her face clouded. "Is there a problem?"

"I'll be honest with you, Miss Mercher. I am not optimistic about this meeting."

She stepped in front of Steed, forcing him to an abrupt stop. Her eyes blazed with blue fire. "But you haven't even spoken to him yet!"

Steed resisted the urge to back away. "Yes, but experience is an important qualification for this position, and he appears to have little of it." He spread his hands in apology. "Were he twenty years older, I'd be more encouraged."

"But it's unfair to make your decision before you meet him." Her face reminded Steed of an approaching thunderstorm.

"Of course, Miss Mercher, of course," Steed said in a placating voice while doing his best to avoid eye contact. "I will withhold judgment until I meet him face to face. And I'll give him every opportunity to demonstrate his worth."

"And how exactly do you plan on doing that?" she demanded, crossing her arms in front of her. Her eyes bored into his.

"Well, I—" he faltered under her fierce glare. It wasn't his fault Olwyn had no experience. How could he be expected to— A sudden flash of inspiration struck him. "A test," he sputtered. "I'll give him a test."

"What kind of test?"

"A simple one. An object in need of repair. If he's as good as you say, he should have no trouble fixing it."

"And if he does?"

"Then he will be invited."

Mercher smiled and stepped back, and Steed felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He removed his hat and mopped the river of sweat rolling down his face, grateful he hadn't had Miss Mercher as an instructor. He patted the object resting in his pocket, thankful he had had the foresight to bring it along. If he was lucky, he could eliminate Olwyn from consideration and be on his way back to the office in less than thirty minutes.

Pleased with his handling of the situation, Steed looked up just in time to see a fourth owl land on Miss Mercher's head. His mouth dropped open. Where were all these owls coming from? He considered asking Miss Mercher how many more she might be expecting, but worried the question would sound rude, so he settled for keeping a close watch for more owls.

Busy watching the sky, Steed didn't notice the tower until they were nearly upon it. His first impression was that it was abandoned—the remnants of an old keep from the distant past. Pockmarks and cracks marred the stone walls in many places, and the crenulations along the top were in shambles. A thick growth of ivy hid much of the building, the vines rising all the way to the top in some cases. The surrounding yard was a mass of weeds and tall grass.

Then he spotted the flag flapping in the breeze high above the building. In each of the flag's corners was an animal—a bird, a lion, a snake, and a badger.

Steed stopped. "Isn't that the Hogwarts flag?" he asked, pointing.

"Yes," she said.

Steed turned to stare at her. "This can't be where he lives?"

Mercher nodded, her cheeks turning pink.

Steed ran his handkerchief across his forehead. "This is most… unexpected. I would have thought a wizard of his abilities would live in something a bit grander. His house looks like a fortification that has seen too many battles. You're sure he's employed?"

"Quite sure," she said, her face now a bright red. "Don't judge him by his house, Minister. I'm sure Viridis chose to live here because it reminds him of Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?" Steed considered the building again. The tower did resemble a castle in a shabby sort of way. Dense woods bordered one side of the house while on the other lay a small, murky pond. A large willow tree dominated the front yard. An iron fence surrounded the property and the pillars on either side of the front gate were adorned with winged boars.

"Hmmm. Well, I suppose I do see a certain resemblance," he said. "Still, I find it difficult to believe someone would choose to live here."

They followed the path leading to the front door, passing several weed-filled plots of dirt along the way. "Doesn't take good care of his garden," Steed grumbled. "You can tell a lot about a person by his garden."

A series of steps led to a massive oak door with an iron doorknocker fashioned in the shape of an eagle. Steed stepped forward to climb the stairs, but Mercher grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. She pointed her wand toward the surrounding bushes, the branches already stretching towards them.

" _Immobulus_." The bushes froze.

"Thank you, Miss Mercher," Steed said as they continued up the stairs, "but I ask that you not mention the reason for our visit. Should Mr. Olwyn turn out to be unqualified, I'd rather he knew nothing about it."

"I'm certain he'll pass your test," she said firmly.

 _I hope not_ , Steed thought as he knocked on the door. _The Board would never forgive me._


	2. Chapter 2 - A Reluctant Invitation

2\. A RELUCTANT INVITATION

Viridis had just cast the last of the cleaning spells when the knock on the door announced the arrival of visitors. With one last look around the room to ensure everything was in place, or at least hidden from view, he hurried to the door and threw it open.

Dawn stood on the porch, wearing her usual assortment of owls. Next to her was a man wearing an expensive suit. His face was flushed and dripping with sweat. Was this the person he was supposed to impress?

"Good morning, young man," the man said. "I'm looking for a Mr. Viridis Olwyn. I understand he lives here."

"At your service," Viridis said, bowing slightly.

The man's jaw dropped and he rocked back as if Viridis had slapped him across the face. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no words came out. Viridis wondered if the bow had been too much.

"You're Viridis Olwyn?" The man finally gasped, sounding as if someone had their hands around his throat.

"Yes."

"The Viridis Olywn who graduated _ten years ago_?"

Viridis winced. Twice in one day.

Dawn stepped forward. "Good morning, Viridis. It's good to see you again." She held out her hand for him to shake.

Viridis stared at the proffered hand. Dawn usually greeted him with a hug, and she usually called him "Vir." Was he supposed to pretend to be surprised by this visit?

"Hello, Dawn," Viridis said, following her lead and shaking her hand. "It's good to see you, too."

"Let me introduce you to Sean Steed," Dawn said, gesturing to the man who was furiously dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief. "He works at the Ministry."

Viridis suppressed a gasp. _The Ministry?_ Why would he need to impress someone from the Ministry? He wondered if he was in some kind of trouble. He held out his hand. "Good morning."

Steed stopped dabbing at his forehead and gazed at the hand blankly for several seconds before taking it. "It's a—pleasure to meet you, Mister Olwyn." An awkward silence followed as Steed and Viridis stared at one another.

Dawn cleared her throat. "Perhaps you might invite us inside?"

"Oh, right. Please come in." Viridis stepped to one side and motioned for them to enter, his mind racing. He watched Steed for any sort of clue as to why he might be here, but the man's attention was immediately captured by the collection of Hogwarts photographs. As Steed moved closer to study them, Viridis took the opportunity to pull Dawn aside.

"Shouldn't you be teaching a class today?"

"I gave my students the day off."

"Seriously?" Viridis said, feigning shock. "You're not turning soft, are you?"

Dawn shot him a nasty look. "Don't worry. I assigned each of them to catch a mudpuppy by the next class."

Viridis lifted an eyebrow. "Do your students know mudpuppies only come out after midnight, after they're supposed to be in bed?"

Dawn shrugged. "Depends on whether or not they bothered to read the chapter I assigned them first."

Steed suddenly pointed at a murky blue-black picture hanging on the wall. "Is that what the monster in the lake really looks like?" he asked.

Viridis nodded.

"I never would have guessed." Steed said, turning away from the pictures. "A most extraordinary collection of photographs you have here, Mr. Olwyn. The only item missing is a picture of the Forbidden Forest. It _is_ part of the school grounds, you know."

Steed's gaze swept the room as Viridis led them further inside. The Minister's eyes seemed to take in every detail. "I see you have fond memories of Hogwarts."

Viridis smiled. "The years I spent there were the best years of my life."

"Ravenclaw, I presume," Steed said, staring up at the half-dozen blue banners hanging from the rafters high above them.

"Best house in Hogwarts." Viridis gestured toward a pair of worn armchairs positioned in front of his desk. "Please, make yourselves comfortable."

Viridis took his place behind his desk and considered his guests. Dawn was being unusually quiet, which worried him. Steed was sniffing the air, a puzzled look on his face. Viridis frowned. The deodorizing spell should have finished by now.

"What brings you to Pringle Hill?" he asked.

"School business," Dawn said. "But since we were in the neighborhood, I thought we'd drop in for a visit. You might be able to help Minister Steed with a problem of his. Isn't that right, Minister?"

"Er, what?" said Steed, who'd been studying a small replica of the Hogwarts Quidditch field sitting on a nearby coffee table. Tiny figures on miniature brooms zoomed around the stadium in intricate patterns. "Oh yes, that's correct. Miss Mercher suggested you might be just the person I need."

"I'd be happy to help any friend of Dawn's," said Viridis, relaxing a bit. At least he didn't seem to be in any immediate trouble.

Steed removed a small mahogany box from his pocket and slid it across the desk. Half-sun/half-moon symbols adorned the top and sides. Viridis lifted the lid to find what appeared to be a clock built inside, but in addition to the usual two hands for showing the time, a third silvery hand indicated the day, while a fourth golden hand pointed to the month. All four hands spun wildly, stopping and reversing every few seconds.

"My office genie," Steed said. "I use it to keep track of appointments, birthdays, that sort of thing. Very useful in my line of work, but it hasn't worked properly in over a month."

All four hands suddenly screeched to a halt, and a deep voice rose from the box. "July thirty-first. One o'clock. Appointment with barber."

Steed sighed. "An old appointment. The device refuses to move past July. I've taken it to several repair shops, but they insist the device is beyond repair, although not until after they'd charged me a hefty fee. Would you mind giving it a look? Miss Mercher says you have a knack for repairing things."

"I'll see what I can do." Viridis shot a quick glance at Dawn. Was this the reason for the visit? To have him fix something? He hadn't needed to clean his house for that.

Viridis studied the genie for a bit, tapping the box here and there with his wand, counting to himself. He opened a desk drawer and removed a thin disk of frosted glass several inches in diameter. He held it horizontally above the box for a few seconds before releasing it. Instead of falling, the disk hovered over the genie. Viridis touched it with the tip of his wand.

" _Quintus_."

The outer edge of the disk shifted, stretching and flowing until it transformed into a five-pointed star. After another tap with his wand, the star began spinning, colored sparks streaming from each point, giving it the appearance of a firework. The star wobbled badly, like an unbalanced top, flinging sparks in all directions.

"What is that device?" Steed asked.

"It doesn't have a name," Viridis replied. "Just something I put together for balancing spells." He tapped the box several more times with his wand, then asked, "How are things at the Ministry?"

"Chaotic," Steed said. "What with all the reorganizations and having to iron out next year's budgets, it's next to impossible to get anything accomplished. Add to that all the new security measures and—" Steed stopped abruptly.

Viridis looked up to find Steed staring down at the floor, looking like a student who'd forgotten to do his homework. "Why would the Ministry need more security?"

Steed sighed and raised his head. "The aurors in charge of the investigation told us to keep this to ourselves, but I suppose it's no longer much of a secret. A few months ago, someone broke into the Ministry building.

Viridis exchanged looks with Dawn, who appeared to be just as surprised by this announcement as he was. "Are you allowed to talk about it?" he asked.

Steed shrugged. "There isn't much to tell. All I know is several items were stolen from the Department of Mysteries."

"Did they catch the thief?"

"No, and that has everyone worried. Breaking into the Ministry building is serious business and nobody knows how the thief could have managed it."

"Can you tell us what was taken?"

Steed shook his head. "It's not my department, and information is hard to come by at the Ministry these days. You'd have to ask the department head."

"Sebastian Lysander? He's a good friend of mine. Lets me stop by and study some of the items stored in the Mysteries section."

Steed shook his head. "I'm afraid Mr. Lysander is no longer the head of that department. He's been demoted."

Viridis gasped. "They think he had something to do with it?"

"I don't believe so, but someone had to take the blame and it fell on him. Too bad, I'd heard good things about the man."

Viridis slumped back in his chair and chewed his lip. He'd been meaning to visit Sebastian for months.

No one spoke for a while and Viridis focused on the genie again, continuing to tap the box with his wand and mumbling under his breath. The star still spun above the office genie, although its wobble was less pronounced than before. Dawn remained quiet, but it seemed to Viridis that she was sitting on the edge of her chair, as if waiting for something.

"By the way," Steed said, "it's quite all right if you can't repair the genie. No need to put yourself out on my account."

Dawn leveled a sharp look at Steed. "Give him a chance, Minister. He's barely started."

"That's okay," Viridis said, surprised by Dawn's reaction. "Let's give it a few more minutes."

Steed lifted his head and sniffed the air again. "Pardon me. I don't wish to be rude, but what is that odor? It's maddeningly familiar."

Viridis frowned. The house smelled fine to him.

"It's the soap Viridis uses to clean his house," Dawn said. "It's the same one the house-elves use to clean Hogwarts."

"Ah," Steed said, "I knew I recognized the scent."

"I told you he loves Hogwarts," Dawn said.

Viridis straightened in his chair. So they'd already talked about him? Perhaps there was more to this visit than a simple repair. The corners of his mouth tugged up in a slight smile. This was just the sort of mystery he loved solving. "What do you do at the Ministry?" he asked, digging for clues.

"I'm the Head of the Department of Magical Education," Steed answered.

"He's also on the Hogwarts Board of Governors," added Dawn. This time it was Steed who shot Dawn a warning look.

"How is the school these days?" Viridis asked, wondering what it was he was missing.

"Fine," Steed said.

"Hmmph," Dawn snorted. "It's hardly what I would call fine, especially now that Murmann has announced his retirement." Steed cringed visibly.

Viridis stopped tapping the genie. "You're kidding."

"Unfortunately not," Steed said. "Professor Murmann has notified the board he is resigning from his position as headmaster, effective next Friday."

"Murmann's leaving Hogwarts? I didn't think he'd ever leave, at least not while he was still breathing."

"It came as a shock to everyone," Dawn said.

"Wait a minute," said Viridis. "Hasn't the term already begun?" He picked up a calendar from his desk, only to discover it was from the previous year.

"Classes started three weeks ago," Dawn said.

Viridis tossed the old calendar into the wastebasket. "Why would he resign partway into the term?" He lowered his voice. "Is he ill?"

Dawn shrugged. "I don't think so."

"We are not aware of any health issues," Steed added. "When pressed for an explanation, Murmann insists he's been toying with the idea of stepping down for a while, and that he felt now was the appropriate time."

"That's all?"

"He has refused to elaborate further. Regardless of his reasons, the timing is quite inconvenient."

"The board is searching for candidates to replace Murmann," Dawn added. Steed appeared ready to give Dawn another stern glare, but sighed instead.

"Are many people interested in the job?" Viridis asked.

Steed nodded. "It's a popular position, as I'm sure you can imagine. I've interviewed over eighty applicants so far."

"We need every person we can get," Dawn said, her face suddenly grim. "Feathergill is the leading candidate so far."

"Feathergill? _Nigel_ Feathergill?" Viridis asked. One of the richest and most powerful wizards in England, Nigel Feathergill was best known for his attempts to seek out publicity. "Why would he want to be the headmaster? I'd have thought he'd consider the job beneath him."

Steed shrugged. "I don't know, but he seems quite keen on the position. Applied for the job immediately."

"He's the last person we need running Hogwarts," Dawn said. "He'd be too busy gallivanting around the world to pay any attention to the school."

"Maybe he'd settle down if he became headmaster," Viridis said.

"I doubt it," Dawn scoffed. "Have you heard about his latest hobby?"

Viridis shook his head.

"Setting the record for the number of times his picture appears in the newspapers in a month."

Viridis laughed. "So that explains why I've seen him in the Daily Prophet so much lately."

"It's no laughing matter," Steed said. "Last month, he managed to get his picture in one of those Muggle newspapers, standing next to a member of the royal family. In a high security area, no less. The uproar among the Muggle security agencies has been unbelievable. The Ministry has spent weeks cleaning up the mess."

Steed pulled out his handkerchief, noticed the it was dripping wet, and returned it to his pocket. "Of course, I don't mean to suggest Feathergill doesn't care about the school. He is on the Board of Governors and seems genuinely concerned with its operation. But he can be extremely critical of everything that happens at Hogwarts. I can't imagine what would happen were he to become headmaster."

"Glad it's not my problem." Viridis looked down at the spinning star, which no longer showed any signs of wobbling. He plucked it out of the air, and it returned to its original circular shape.

Viridis opened the lid of the box. None of the hands were spinning and the date and time were both correct.

"Today is September 27th," the box intoned. "You have missed a total of two hundred and fourteen appointments this month. Do you wish to hear a complete list?"

"What? How?" Steed leaped from his chair and snatched the box from Viridis, turning it around in his hands and inspecting it from all sides as if convincing himself there had been no substitution.

"I was assured," he said in a quiet voice, "that this device was beyond repair. How did _you_ manage to fix it?"

Viridis grinned. "Complicated devices like this require multiple enchantments, all of which have to work together in a precise balance. All it takes is a little change in the strength of one of those spells to ruin that balance. And the more enchantments you have, the harder it is to determine which needs fixing. That is, unless you have something like this." He held up the disk before tossing it back into the drawer. "In your case, a location-based spell had lost some of its strength. Have you come into contact with any pixies lately? They tend to negate that type of spell."

Steed's eyes widened. "Why yes, a month or so ago. Er, thank you."

"You're welcome." Viridis leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. Dawn had asked him to impress the man and he'd done that. Yet Viridis had the distinct impression Steed wasn't all that happy about having his genie fixed. He kept frowning and shaking the box, almost as if hoping it would stop working. He also seemed to be deliberately ignoring Dawn, despite the fact she kept clearing her throat.

"Don't you have anything else to say to Viridis?" Dawn asked.

When Steed raised his head to meet her gaze, his eyes held the anxious look of a trapped animal. "Well, yes, I suppose—but you see—there are issues to consider—"

The appointment genie interrupted. "It is past noon. You are late for your appointment with Viridis Olwyn to discuss his invitation to the headmaster's competition." Steed moaned and collapsed back into his chair, his head in his hands.

Viridis gaped at the crestfallen man. "You want _me_ to apply for the job of Hogwarts headmaster?"

"Well, um," Steed began. He glanced at Dawn, who was glaring back at him with her arms crossed, and his shoulders slumped in resignation. "Yes, I suppose that is correct. Unless…" his face brightened with hope, "unless there's a reason why you shouldn't be invited?"

"Of course, there isn't," Dawn said, her face beaming. "This is your dream come true, Vir. A chance to come back and live at Hogwarts."

Viridis sucked in his breath. _Go back to Hogwarts?_ Icy cold fingers of fear wrapped themselves around his intestines and squeezed. "But—but I don't know anything about being a headmaster."

"So what?" Dawn said. "You're a quick learner. You'll pick it up in no time."

Viridis stared back and forth between the two of them, his hand tightening on his wand. They were serious about this. "This is ridiculous. The Board of Governors would never choose me. They won't think I'm qualified."

"It doesn't matter what the Board thinks," Dawn said. "All you have to do is win the competition. Isn't that right, Minister?"

"That is... ah... technically correct," Steed said, tugging at his collar as if it had suddenly grown too small. "The final decision is not made by the committee. A series of tests and competitions will determine which of the candidates wins the job."

"You see?" Dawn said. "All you need to do is take some tests.

The fingers gripping Viridis's intestines tightened. "Do you really expect me to compete against wizards like Feathergill?" Viridis wheezed, his chest so tight he could barely force the words out. Drops of sweat rolled down his back. "I wouldn't stand a chance."

"A reasonable position to take," Steed said. "Don't feel obligated to compete, Mr. Olwyn. There's no shame in declining the invitation."

Dawn whirled around and glared at Steed. "Don't underestimate him, Minister. Viridis happens to be very good at taking tests."

"Being good with tests may help during the early rounds, but experience is what wins out in the final competition," Steed said.

"What's the final competition?" Dawn asked.

"I don't know," Steed said, shrugging. "It's different every time."

"Which means the job is wide open for anyone to win," Dawn said. "Come on, Vir. Just tell him you're accepting the invitation and be done with it."

Viridis closed his eyes and said nothing, wishing they'd stop talking about Hogwarts. The room spun dizzily around him. He gripped the edges of the desk to keep his hands from shaking.

Steed cleared his throat. "I understand his reluctance, Miss Mercher. He would be the youngest wizard ever to enter the competition."

Dawn narrowed her eyes at Steed. "If you're so set against him competing, why did you invite him in the first place?"

"It wasn't my decision. His name was on the list of candidates."

"And for good reason," Dawn snapped. "Don't worry, Minister, Viridis will be there on Tuesday."

"Tuesday?" Viridis repeated, his eyes opening. "Five days from now? That's not enough time to prepare for a test." His knuckles hurt from clenching the desk, but his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own and refused to let go.

Steed shrugged. "It can't be helped. We're in a bit of a rush to move things along, and the final test must be performed during the full moon, which is this coming Thursday. Murmann has only promised to stay until then, so time is of the essence."

"What does Viridis have to do to enter?" Dawn asked.

"The only requirement is that he show up at Hogwarts on Tuesday evening."

Viridis stared at Steed in horror. "The competition is at—Hogwarts?"

"Well, of course," Steed said. "The final test is built into the school itself."

The thought of setting foot inside Hogwarts sent Viridis's heart into palpitations. An icy dread crystallized in his stomach and spread throughout his body. His arms and legs went numb and his vision blurred.

"Vir," Dawn said, watching him with sudden concern. "What's there to think about? You love taking tests. You can at least come to Hogwarts and see the school again."

"I—I can't—" Viridis began.

The baritone voice of the office genie interrupted. "Reminder. Your bus back to the Ministry leaves in thirty minutes."

Steed grimaced. "I'm afraid I must be going, but you are hereby officially invited to compete for the position of Hogwarts headmaster. In keeping with tradition, the Hogwarts Express will make a special trip on Tuesday to convey the entrants to the school. Eleven o'clock sharp, as usual." Steed stood and extended his hand over the desk for Viridis to shake, but Viridis made no move to take it. Steed withdrew his hand. "Remember, there's no obligation to compete."

Dawn bristled. "Don't worry, he'll be there." She shot another worried glance at Viridis, then smiled at Steed. "I'll walk you back to the bus, Minister. May I have a minute alone with Viridis?"

"As you wish," Steed said. "I'll wait outside."

As soon as Steed walked out the door, Dawn scooted around the desk, grabbed Viridis by his shirt, and hauled him out of the chair. "Vir, what's the matter with you? You should be jumping at the chance to go back."

He struggled to support himself on legs that felt as if they'd been hit with a Jelly-Legs Curse. "It's not that simple," he mumbled. "I have a… a job for… Mr. Ridley." His voice trailed off.

"Forget about that job. Look around you. It's like you're still living in Hogwarts. Being the Hogwarts headmaster would be your dream job."

Viridis opened his mouth, then closed it again. He lowered his eyes and stared at the floor, unable to meet Dawn's eyes. He'd never told her what had happened that night at Hogwarts. He'd never told anyone.

Dawn tightened her grip on his shirt. "You need a real job, not one where you sit around all day in a crumbling building studying old magical items and hoping you can pay your bills on time. What happened to you? Ten years ago, wild hippogriffs couldn't have stopped you from competing in a magical competition. The Viridis I remember was motivated and organized. You stored your books in alphabetical order. You memorized the name of every headmaster in the history of Hogwarts. You spent an entire term figuring out how to make a thestral visible."

She pulled Viridis so close their noses almost touched. "This is your chance to come back and stay at Hogwarts for a few days, maybe even win the headmasters job. Don't waste the opportunity. Even if you don't win, this may be just the push you need to get yourself moving again. But you _have_ to take that first step."

She released him and fished in her pocket for a small card, which she handed to him. He squinted at it, his eyes still having trouble focusing, until he recognized Professor Murmann's business card. The picture of Murmann smiled and nodded his head, beckoning at Viridis with his right hand.

"Murmann is expecting you on Tuesday," Dawn said. "At least give him a chance to speak with you before you make your decision."

"Dawn, I—"

"No arguments. I'm not leaving until you promise you'll come." Her eyes softened just the slightest bit. "Please. You've never even seen my office."

Viridis reluctantly nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Dawn smiled. "Good. I'm holding you to that promise. See you in four days." She hugged him, then grabbed him by his shirt collar again. "You'd better show up." With that, she turned and walked to the door, waving one last time before leaving.

Viridis collapsed back into his chair, his entire body trembling. He hadn't been able to return to Hogwarts in ten years. What were the chances he could do it by next week?


	3. Chapter 3 A Disappointing Diagnosis

3\. A DISAPPOINTING DIAGNOSIS

Viridis held a handkerchief over his nose as he stared out the window at the dark clouds draped over London like a smoky gray blanket. He'd never cared for the waiting room at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The small wooden chairs were uncomfortable and the sharp odor of disinfectant charms always gave him a headache.

But headaches were the least of his problems at the moment. Turning away from the window, he reached into his pocket and removed the envelope that had arrived at his house the previous morning. A ticket lay nestled inside, printed in shiny gold letters.

 _Hogwarts Express_

 _King's Cross, Platform 9 ¾_

 _11:00 am_

He closed his eyes and ran his fingers over the raised lettering. The train was scheduled to leave in less than an hour and he still didn't know if he was going to be on board when it did.

Viridis glanced around the quiet waiting room, empty except for the nurse reading a newspaper at her desk. What was taking the healer so long? He jammed the envelope back into his pocket. He'd slept little the last few days, and his stomach felt as if he'd eaten rocks for breakfast. He should be at home, he thought, working on Ridley's assignment, not sitting in St. Mungo's hoping for some sort of last-minute cure.

Three days ago, he'd been as happy as he'd been in a long time. After years of being haunted by the memories of that last night at Hogwarts, he'd finally begun to feel a sense of peace. He'd found a job, even if it didn't pay well, and a decent place to live. The nightmares had gone away and he'd come to accept that he would never again return to Hogwarts. But then Dawn and Steed had shown up on his doorstep and ruined everything.

The nightmares had returned, painful visions of himself stumbling through the forbidden forest, unable to find his way back to the castle. But along with the sleepless nights had come the burning desire to see Hogwarts again. He'd resisted at first, remembering what had happened the last few times he'd tried returning to the school, but the urges had grown stronger with each passing day until he'd finally given in and decided he'd give it one last try. Not because of the competition, of course—he had no expectation of winning the job of headmaster—but to see if he could return. After all, it had been over ten years. Perhaps the curse had weakened over time.

A man with a face as red as a tomato burst into the waiting room. Sweat poured down his head in tiny rivulets and the black smudges on his forehead suggested he'd just crawled out of a chimney. He hurried over to the nurse.

"I must see a healer at once," he announced, sweat dripping off his nose and chin as he leaned over her desk.

The nurse lowered her copy of the Daily Prophet and peered up at him. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Well, no—but it's an emergency."

"What kind of emergency?"

"I ate enchanted chili peppers at a party last night and I think I'm allergic." He wiped his face with an already soaked shirt sleeve. "And the symptoms are getting worse."

The nurse's eyes flicked down to the puddle forming on her desk. "Please take a seat. The healer will see you when she can." She smiled and returned to her newspaper. The man stood there for a moment, apparently having expected more of a response, then reluctantly plopped into the nearest chair and fanned himself with a magazine.

Viridis turned back to the window and stared at the darkening sky, recalling his previous attempts to return to Hogwarts. Several years ago, he'd taken the floo to the Three Hares Inn in Hogsmeade and walked to the castle, but the fear churning in his stomach had increased the closer he'd come to the school, until he'd finally had to turn and race back to town.

A year later, he'd tried apparating right outside the school gates, but he'd been so nervous he'd messed up the spell and apparated right in the middle of a bog snorkeling competition in Wales. Even now, the thought of returning to Hogwarts was giving him palpitations.

But this time, maybe, just maybe, the Hogwarts Express offered him a fresh chance. Perhaps the long ride on the old familiar train, reliving happy memories as a student, might give him a chance to grow accustomed to the idea of visiting the castle. Of course, there was no guarantee he'd be able to step off the train once it reached Hogsmeade station. He wasn't even sure he could board the train in the first place. Which was why he'd come to St. Mungo's this morning.

He didn't expect the healers to cure him. He'd come to St. Mungo's several times over the years, hoping for just such a cure, but after days of poking and prodding, the healers always sent him home, telling him there was nothing wrong and to stop wasting their time. But perhaps this time they could give him something to relieve the symptoms temporarily, long enough for him to visit the castle for a few days.

But St. Mungo's wasn't going to do him any good if he didn't see a healer before the train departed. He stood and marched over to the nurse and rapped his knuckles on the desk. "Excuse me. How much longer before the healer's free?"

The nurse lowered her newspaper just enough to peek over the top. "I'm sorry, sir, but she's still busy with another patient."

"But my appointment was scheduled two hours ago. What's taking so long?"

"It's a difficult case, sir." She leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "A vampire who's afraid of the sight of blood. The healer's been working with her for months." She raised the paper again. "I'm sure she'll be with you soon."

"But—"

The red-faced man suddenly leapt out of his chair and began fanning himself so vigorously his arms looked like windmills. His face turned bright crimson and smoke billowed out of his ears. "It's happening again," he howled, just before his hair burst into flame. The man yelped and danced around the room, knocking over chairs and flower vases while furiously patting his head with his hands.

With the bored look of someone who'd seen this sort of thing before, the nurse picked up her wand and twirled it in the air. A wooden bucket materialized above the man, upending itself and dumping water onto his head. The flames disappeared in a hiss of steam.

The man flopped down into a chair, coughing and choking.

"Thank you," he sputtered when he could speak again. The odor of burnt hair filled the room.

"You're most welcome." The nurse turned her gaze back to Viridis and narrowed her eyes. "Is there anything else, sir?"

Viridis swallowed. "Is there, uh, any way you could check with the healer? My train leaves in less than an hour."

The nurse slapped her newspaper onto the desk and Viridis jumped back. "Train? Why in the name of Minerva did you schedule your appointment on the same morning as your train?"

"It was the only opening available for the next month."

The nurse shook her head and shrugged. "There's nothing I can do. Why don't you try reading a magazine? The latest issue of _Wizard's Weekly_ has a fascinating article on Nigel Feathergill. Plenty of photographs, too."

Viridis trudged back to his chair. It was what he'd been afraid of. St. Mungo's wasn't going to be any help. He might as well head for the train station and try boarding the Hogwarts Express. At least he wouldn't be subjected to any more prodding and poking.

Just as he gathered his overnight bag and headed for the exit, the door to the examination room popped open and a rather pale woman donning a long black cape and sunglasses scurried out. The nurse beckoned to Viridis. "Go right on in." Viridis glanced at the clock on the wall and decided there might be enough time for a quick visit. What did he have to lose?

The brightness of the examination room took him by surprise. The walls were painted a shade of white so brilliant they almost seemed to glow. Every metal object in the room, cabinets, shelves, and tables, had been scrubbed and polished to an almost mirror-like sheen. Even in the subdued light filtering in through the windows, the reflected light was enough to force Viridis to squint. He could only imagine how bright the room must be on sunny days.

Once his eyes adjusted, Viridis was able to take in the rest of the room's details. One wall was covered with all manner of unusual metal devices, many of them sporting glistening blades or sharp points. Rows of shelves along the back wall held hundreds of glass jars, housing what appeared to be an enormous collection of leeches. Viridis shuddered.

"Excuse me," said a voice somewhere near the floor.

Viridis glanced down to find a house-elf standing next to the examination table. He held a tiny clipboard and was dressed in a dirty white pillowcase with the words "Property of St. Mungos" stenciled along one end. The elf snapped his fingers and the door slammed shut behind Viridis.

"Name?" squeaked the house-elf.

"Viridis Olwyn."

"Full name, please."

"Viridis Trismegistus Olwyn."

"Age?"

"Twenty-seven."

The elf gave him a long, suspicious look before making a notation on his clipboard. "Please sit on the examination table. The healer will be right with you." The elf padded softly across the floor toward a door marked "Healer's Sanctuary - No Admittance" and rang a small brass bell hanging from the wall.

Within seconds, the door opened and a woman with a moon face and bottle-rim glasses entered. She wore a lime green robe with the name "Galenius" stitched onto the pocket

Without a word, she strode up to Viridis and began examining him, her wand tracing invisible symbols in the air.

"Face is pale," she announced in a deep voice. The house-elf scribbled this down on the clipboard. "Dark circles under the eyes, too." She poked Viridis's forehead with her wand. "Skin is clammy. Possibly contagious." The house elf took two quick steps back, but continued writing.

"What I have isn't contagious," Viridis said.

"I'll be the judge of that," the healer said. Her eyes were huge behind the lenses. "What seems to be the problem today?"

"I need you to prescribe something that will remove fear for a few days.

The healer frowned. "What is it you're afraid of?"

"I'd rather not talk about it. Just give me something that gets rid of all fears."

"Without knowing why?" she asked. "What kind of quack do you think I am?" Viridis's eyes flicked over to the collection of leeches, but he remained silent. Galenius tapped her wand impatiently. "I'll ask you again, what is it you are afraid of?"

Viridis hesitated. This had always been the tricky part. Just thinking about the events of that night was enough to trigger an attack. "It's difficult to explain."

Galenius made a dismissive gesture. "Don't concern yourself with that. We know what we're doing here at St. Mungo's. Go ahead and tell me what's wrong as best you can."

Viridis sighed. "I'm afraid of Hogwarts."

"You mean the school?"

"Yes."

The healer rolled her eyes. "That's hardly much of a problem. It's natural for students to be afraid of school."

Viridis stiffened. "I'm not a student."

"You were expelled?"

"No," said Viridis, bristling. "I graduated ten years ago."

The healer exchanged glances with the house-elf who shrugged and said, "Claims he's twenty-seven."

"Of course, he is," the healer said, winking at the house-elf. "And why does a fear of Hogwarts cause you problems? The school is quite a distance from here, you know."

"Hogwarts is holding a competition to choose its next headmaster and I've been invited to compete," Viridis growled, annoyed with the healer's attitude.

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere. And how long have you been suffering from these delusions?"

Viridis blinked. "What delusions?"

"That you graduated ten years ago and that you've been asked to be the headmaster." The house-elf giggled as he scribbled on the clipboard.

Viridis glared back and forth between Galenius and the house-elf, his cheeks burning. "It's true. I'm not making this up."

"I don't suppose you have this invitation in writing, do you?"

"No. The Minster for the Department of Magical Education came to my house and invited me personally."

"Of course, he did." Galenius gave Viridis a patronizing smile. "And your fear is that no one at Hogwarts will believe you?"

"No!" said Viridis, his face hot enough now to boil water. "Forget about the competition. It's not important. I'm just afraid of returning to the school."

"And why is that?"

He spoke without thinking. "Because on my last night at the school I—owww!" A searing pain ripped through his head, as if a red-hot poker had been shoved into his brain. He doubled over and grabbed his head with both hands. His eyes watered, and the room shifted in and out of focus.

He took deep breaths, waiting for the pain to ease. This was what he'd been afraid would happen. The pain seemed as strong as ever.

"Go on," said the healer, looking bored.

Viridis swallowed, his mouth dry. He'd never been able to tell anyone what had happened, no matter how much he'd wanted to. He'd even tried writing it down once, but he'd immediately passed out, eventually waking with a severe headache and finding nothing but unintelligible scribbles on the paper.

Viridis gripped the edge of the examination table and braced himself for another try. "Ten years ago, I—"

Waves of agony crashed over him, along with fragments of painful memories. The room swayed and Viridis held onto the table to keep from falling. His stomach lurched and he was grateful he hadn't eaten anything for breakfast. His face grew slick with sweat.

Galenius pursed her lips in annoyance. "No need to be embarrassed, young man. I've seen it all. Just tell me. I'm a professional."

Viridis wiped the sweat from his face and waited for the room to stop spinning. The only way he'd been able to cope with the pain over the years was by ruthlessly suppressing the memories. By never allowing himself to think about that night. "It hurts to talk about it."

"Come now." The doctor's eyes flashed with annoyance. "Try harder."

"Isn't there some way you could figure out what's wrong without me having to tell you?" Viridis asked. "Maybe you could ask questions and I could answer yes or no."

"What sort of nonsense is this? Either tell me what's wrong or leave the hospital immediately."

Viridis fought back the feeling of despair. He'd suspected this wasn't going to work, but he'd give it one last try. Perhaps if he spoke quickly enough, he'd get the words out before the pain became too great. He took another deep breath, then began speaking, the words tumbling from his mouth in rapid succession.

"DuringmylastnightatHogwarts—"

Long buried memories of that night burst forth in his head, like water breaching a crack in a dam, slamming into Viridis with overwhelming force. He screamed and fell off the examination table, sending bedpans clattering to the floor. The house-elf shrieked and vanished. The healer leaped back.

"Now see here, young man. What is the meaning of this?"

Viridis lay curled in a ball on the floor, his teeth clenched and eyes squeezed shut. Pain stabbed at him from all directions. Alternating waves of terror and guilt washed over him, leaving him weak and shaking. Images flashed through his mind. A blaze of wand light. An inhuman scream. A vision of him staggering past rotting stumps and fallen trees. And pain, so much pain. He fought to remain conscious, knowing that if he passed out he'd miss the train.

He clamped down on the memories, shoving them back into the hidden recesses of his mind. Bit by bit, he pushed them away, until his breathing slowed and his body relaxed. He'd become very good at suppressing the memory over the years—everything, that is, except for the guilt. That had never gone away.

Viridis opened his eyes to find the doctor backed up against the wall, staring at him, her eyes wide. He climbed to his feet, his legs wobbly and his head throbbing. He should have known better. If he was going to return to Hogwarts, he'd have to do it on his own.

"I'm sorry for wasting your time," he told the healer. "I have to go."

"Go where?"

"To catch the Hogwarts Express."

"You said you were afraid of returning to Hogwarts."

Viridis picked up his overnight bag. "I am, but I'm going to try anyway."

A strange gleam came into the healer's eyes. "You do realize, don't you, that the Hogwarts Express only runs at the beginning and end of terms?"

"They're running it today for the headmaster's competition."

"Excellent," Galenius said, smiling and rubbing her hands together. "I've never observed a more stubborn delusion. Imagine the articles I'll be able to write for the _Witch Doctor's Journal_. I'll be famous."

Viridis edged toward the door.

"Hold on there," the healer said, "you're in no condition to leave. You need to be checked into the hospital straight away. We'll have you fixed up in no time."

"No thanks," said Viridis. "I'm already late." He tugged at the door, but it refused to budge.

"As a healer, it's my duty to keep you here until you're well. Shouldn't take more than a month or two."

"Sorry. Don't have the time." Viridis pulled out his wand and pointed it at the lock. " _Alohamora_." The door popped open.

"I'm afraid it's no longer your decision." Galenius rang the brass bell and a portion of the wall slid aside to reveal two large men in black scrubs, both of whom wore wicked smiles. "This patient wishes to check into the hospital," she told them. "Would you please escort him to his room?" The orderlies pulled wands from their belts and leered at Viridis.

Viridis tightened his grip on his wand. "I'm leaving. Don't try and stop me." He inched toward the doorway.

"Be reasonable," said the healer, her own wand out now. "This is for your own good. We don't want to have to use our wands." The orderlies nodded, but from the way they fingered their wands, Viridis suspected they weren't in agreement with the healer on this point. She motioned the orderlies forward.

Viridis raised his wand, his mind racing. He'd never been any good in a wand fight. What he needed was a distraction, something to occupy them long enough for him to escape. Perhaps a flare spell might do the trick. He pointed his wand in their direction and shouted, " _Periculum_." A series of red sparks shot from the tip of his wand and sailed across the room, exploding in a flash in front of the orderlies. The light reflected off every polished surface in the room, magnifying the light into a blinding flash of crimson that left spots in front of Viridis's eyes.

The orderlies screamed and covered their faces. Galenius staggered backwards and collided with the shelves holding the leeches. Dozens of jars crashed to the floor, showering the doctor and orderlies with glistening creatures. All three yelped as the slimy leeches latched onto arms, necks, and faces.

Half blinded, Viridis stumbled through the door just as a stunning spell smashed into the wall next to him. He dashed through the waiting room, past the surprised nurse, and out into the hall. A string of shouts and curses followed him as he raced down the corridor toward the exit.

The station clock read ten minutes to eleven when Viridis burst into King's Cross, gasping for breath, his heart pumping madly. Water dripped from his hair and clothes, a result of the rain that had begun falling shortly after he'd fled St. Mungo's. Ignoring the curious stares from the crowd, he turned and faced the entrance, searching for any sign of pursuit. He thought he'd lost the orderlies several blocks earlier, but since he'd mentioned the Hogwart's Express, they'd eventually think to look for him here.

Clutching his bag under one arm, he crossed the busy station, heading for the familiar barrier between platforms 9 and 10 that held the entrance to the Hogwarts Express. After much pushing and jostling, he arrived at his destination, only to discover a large and beefy security guard leaning against the barrier, blocking Viridis's way through the portal. The man was gabbing into one of those little boxes Muggles called phones.

"Yeah, that's right," the guard said. "Robes. A bunch of weirdos wearing robes… No, not bathrobes. Robes… You know, like when you graduate… No, of course I'm not kidding. I've been watching them come through the station for the last hour." There was a long pause, followed by, "How would I know? But I'm going to find out… It might be some sort of plot… I don't know, robbing the station or something. Who knows what they have hidden under those robes?"

Viridis fumed. He'd never understood why some wizards weren't more careful about their appearance in public, especially now, what with the Ministry's recent crackdown on this type of display. His own short brown cloak was unusual enough as it was.

"No," the guard continued, "I haven't been able to nab any of them yet. Every time I corner one of them, they seem to disappear on me. This time I'm staying put until I catch one of them." The guard shoved the phone back in his pocket and glared at the crowd.

Viridis considered his options. Time was not on his side. The orderlies might arrive any moment, the Hogwarts Express would be departing in a few minutes, and the guard didn't appear to be leaving anytime soon. A few spells occurred to him, but using magic in a train station crowded with Muggles would almost certainly land him in trouble with the Ministry. A team of obliviators would show up and he'd end up filling out a lot of forms—or worse.

The guard paced back and forth in front of the barrier, one hand on his baton, his eyes hard. As the minutes ticked by, Viridis reluctantly concluded the guard wasn't going to leave in time for him to catch the train. He sighed. No point in waiting around for the orderlies to show up. Might as well head over to Diagon Alley and take his chances with the floo.

Viridis turned and headed back toward the entrance. He was halfway across the station when an opening in the crowd gave him a clear view of the path ahead. His breath caught.

The two orderlies stood between him and the exit.


	4. Chapter 4 - The Hogwarts Express

4\. THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS

The orderlies stood just inside the entrance, their heads swiveling back and forth as they scanned the station. Pink splotches on their faces and arms bore witness to their recent encounter with leeches.

Viridis dropped to his knees and hid behind a line of businessmen scurrying across the station. He realized there was no way he could make it past the orderlies without resorting to magic. The only way out was behind him, through the barrier. Staying low to the ground, Viridis turned and scuttled back the way he'd come.

"Watch where you're going," snarled a teenager as Viridis bumped into him.

"Pardon me," Viridis said, dodging around a woman pushing a baby carriage. He broke free of the crowd and marched up to the still-pacing guard. "Excuse me, sir."

The guard stared down at him, his gaze settling on Viridis's cloak. His eyes narrowed. "Yes?"

Viridis swallowed, realizing it probably would have been a good idea to have removed his cloak first. He pointed toward the opposite side of the station. "There's um… some sort of disturbance at the ticket booth. A man wearing, uh, a green robe is behaving strangely. I'd thought you'd want to know."

The guard's eyes lit up as soon as he heard the word _robe_ , and he took a few steps in the indicated direction. Viridis slid past the man and positioned himself next to the barrier, mentally kicking himself for not having tried this in the first place. Sometimes magic wasn't the best way to solve problems. As soon as the guard walked away, Viridis could step right through the portal.

The guard stopped and turned around, his eyes filled with suspicion. "Perhaps you should come with me and show me where this man is." He smiled at Viridis in a dangerous sort of way.

Viridis gulped. "I'm sorry, but my train is about to leave and I don't have time. Just thought you'd want to know about it. I don't want to get involved."

The guard eyed the neighboring tracks, none of which held any trains. Viridis inched backwards until he was up against the barrier. If only the guard would look away for a moment, Viridis could back through the portal. Even with the anti-Muggle charms attached to the portal, disappearing through it while the guard was paying so much attention to him might violate the Ministry's new rules.

"May I see your ticket?" the guard asked in an over-polite voice. "Perhaps I could help you find your train."

"I don't have it with me," Viridis replied, knowing he couldn't very well present his ticket to the Hogwarts Express. He glanced past the guard and spotted the orderlies moving in his direction. The station clock showed 10:57. "My, uh, girlfriend has our tickets and I'm trying to find her."

"Is there a problem, Horace?" asked a female guard who sauntered up to join them.

"No problem, Gladys," he said, giving her a meaningful look. "This young man wants to find his train, but he doesn't seem to have a ticket." The female guard moved around to the other side of Viridis, placing one hand firmly on her baton while Horace turned back to Viridis. "Where's your train headed?"

"Edinburgh," Viridis said, certain at least one train would be heading there today, but unsure if it had left yet. Judging by the dark red color that spread across the guard's face, Viridis guessed that it already had.

"I suggest," the guard said, planting a massive hand on Viridis' shoulder to demonstrate it wasn't a suggestion, "that you come with us."

Viridis took a deep breath and moved his hand toward his wand, wondering how much trouble he was about to get himself into, when a man wearing a Slytherin green cloak stepped out of the crowd and headed toward them. The edge of his cloak swept the floor behind him.

"There he is!" Viridis shouted, pointing at the wizard, who stopped and stared at the three of them in confusion. Even though the wizard wore a cloak instead of a robe, that was apparently close enough for the guard, who let go of Viridis and stepped toward the wizard. "You! Stay right where you are."

The female guard also turned away from Viridis and pulled out her baton. The green-cloaked wizard took a hesitant step back, confused. Without waiting to see what would happen, Viridis threw himself back against the barrier and through the portal.

There was a sudden feeling of disorientation and then he found himself lying on his back, staring up at an arched ceiling of grey iron beams partially hidden behind clouds of smoke and steam. The smells of fast food and the sounds of screaming children disappeared, replaced by the old familiar scent of a steam engine. He picked himself up off the floor, feeling guilty at having left another wizard in such a predicament, but there wasn't much he could do about it now. It served him right for walking around in public dressed like that. Then he spotted the Hogwarts Express and promptly forgot all about the other wizard.

The train looked exactly as he remembered, the scarlet red engine as shiny as ever. Pleasant memories of his time spent on this platform as a student came flooding back—talking with classmates, trading vacation stories, scaring first years with ridiculous tales about the school. For the first time in days, Viridis smiled.

The train's whistle blew a short blast, and Viridis suddenly realized he was the only person on the platform, the rest of the passengers apparently having already boarded the train. He dashed to the nearest carriage, grabbed the handrail, and was prepared to climb on board when it suddenly occurred to him what he was about to do. This train would carry him to Hogwarts. A chill passed over him and his legs refused to move.

"Hey, you," shouted a voice from behind. "Are you boarding or not?"

Viridis turned to see a flustered-looking man wearing a conductor's cap and carrying a pocket watch. He snapped the watch shut and slipped it into his pocket. "Make up your mind. We're leaving." He pushed past Viridis and climbed the steps before disappearing inside the carriage.

Viridis clenched his fists. Isn't this what he'd wanted? It was now or never.

Gritting his teeth so hard his jaws hurt, Viridis stepped aboard. His legs quivered like jelly as he moved down the aisle toward the back of the train. He stumbled through several half empty carriages holding witches and wizards before he found an empty one near the back of the train and entered one of its compartments. He closed the door behind him, tossed his bag into the luggage rack, and slumped down into his seat, waiting for his heart to quit pounding.

Another blast of the train's whistle sent Viridis's heart leaping into his throat. He grabbed the edge of his seat with both hands and braced himself as the train lurched forward. As the station began to slide past his window, Viridis forced himself to breathe. Unless he jumped off the train, he would be at Hogwarts by evening.

Suddenly, the wizard with the green cloak appeared on the platform, his hair disheveled, his cloak ripped and torn, his face dark and angry. He sprinted toward the train, screaming for it to stop. Viridis ducked below the window and remained there until the train left the station. When he raised his head again, he didn't know if the wizard had managed to catch the train or not.

The train picked up speed as it moved through London. Viridis leaned back and watched the city pass by his window, recalling all the old familiar landmarks. The clouds were darker and thicker now, the drizzle having become a heavy rain, obscuring his view of the outside.

After a while, Viridis grew bored with staring out rain-blurred windows, so he retrieved his bag from the luggage rack and pulled out _The Centaur's Guide to Taking Magical Exams_. He wasn't expecting to win the competition, but the idea of arriving for a test without studying something made him uncomfortable. Besides, he needed something to keep his mind off the fact he was steadily moving toward Hogwarts.

Despite the anxiety that gripped his stomach, he found himself grinning as he flipped through the chapters. It was like being back in school again. Charms, hexes, transfiguration, potions. The pages brought back wonderful memories of his days as a student… that is, until he reached the section on runes. He scowled and slammed the book shut. As far as he was concerned, runes was a worthless subject. Nobody but old wizards and scholars used them anymore. He opened the book again and found himself staring at the Arithmancy section. Perfect. He hadn't touched that subject in years and was probably rusty.

Viridis had just finished the section on the relationship between prime numbers and occlumancy when a sharp rap on the compartment door startled him. He looked up from the book, half expecting to find the green-cloaked wizard glaring down at him through the glass partition, but it was only a woman with large, heart-shaped glasses standing next to the lunch trolley. Viridis laid the book on the seat next to him and opened the door.

"May I interest you in something to eat, sir?" she asked pleasantly. "We have quite the assortment to choose from."

Pleased to discover his stomach feeling better than it had in days, Viridis rummaged through the items on the cart, looking for the usual assortment of treats and snacks he'd devoured as a student. All he found, however, were boringly healthy foods like sandwiches and fruit.

"Any chocolate frogs?" he asked, sifting through the pile of sandwiches.

"No."

"Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans?

"No."

"Cockroach clusters or licorice wands?"

The woman shook her head in irritation. "We only sell that junk when students ride the train. Not when the _adults_ travel." She studied him for a bit. "You're not a student, are you?"

Viridis winced. "No." He scooped up an egg sandwich and a bottle of Furrina's enchanted spring water. He paid for the food and was turning away when a flash of color caught his eye. On the bottom shelf of the cart, pushed to the back, sat a small pile of candy, probably left there after the students had ridden the train four weeks earlier. Viridis dug through the pile and was rewarded with a familiar orange and yellow box decorated with large, black lettering. He could hardly believe his luck. He hadn't had any of these in years.

The woman peered over her glasses, clearly annoyed. "What are those?"

"Beast Belchers. My favorite candy when I was a student."

"Beast Belchers? What a ridiculous name. What do they taste like?"

Viridis thought for a moment. "It's hard to describe. Kind of like a mix of licorice, banana, and asparagus."

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "And you enjoy eating that, do you?"

"You don't eat Beast Belchers for their taste. You eat them because they make you burp."

She stared at him as if a chocolate frog had crawled out of his ear.

"Not ordinary burps," Viridis said, "Charmed ones that transform into miniature creatures. You can make dozens of different animals, depending on the size of the burp."

The woman continued to stare at him.

"As you can probably guess," Viridis continued, oblivious to the women's reaction, "larger burps give you the biggest and best creatures. I was never able to make anything larger than the medium sized ones, you know, like unicorns and owls, but supposedly you can create a fire-breathing dragon." He grinned. "All the Hogwarts instructors used to hate Beast Belchers."

"I suspect that hasn't changed," said the woman. She shook her head and pushed the trolley to the next carriage, mumbling something under her breath.

Viridis closed the door, tossed the sandwich onto the next seat, and tore open the box of candy. After glancing out the door to make sure no one was watching—he didn't think candidates for the job of headmaster should be seen eating Beast Belchers—he popped a few of the purple, egg-shaped candies into his mouth and chewed, waiting for the bloated feeling in his stomach that signaled the spell's readiness.

His first burp produced several embarrassingly small snails that floated in front of his face. He brushed them away and tried again, concentrating on bigger burps, recalling every trick he'd used as a student. After a few more tries, he managed to create some purple dragonflies (still rather embarrassing), a translucent blue frog (a bit more respectable), and with a great deal of effort, a chameleon (not bad considering his lack of practice).

He chewed more of the candy, studying the creatures as they floated about the compartment. The chameleon kept changing its color to match whatever object was nearest. The frog had already managed to swallow one of the dragonflies. Viridis could see it fluttering around inside the frog.

Encouraged by this early success, Viridis concentrated on making larger creatures, and after a few more attempts produced a squirrel (respectable, but rather boring), two hairy black spiders the size of his fist, a bat, and a garter snake. Although pleased by these results, he noticed his stomach was hurting again.

While debating whether or not to eat any more of the candy, a knock on the door startled him, and he jumped out of his seat, colliding with one of the spiders and sending it bouncing around the compartment. A tower of a man with huge arms and wearing a woolen cap stood in front of the door, an enormous grin on his face. The man slid the door open and eased his way into the compartment, taking care not to let any of the creatures escape.

"Been a while since I seen any of these," he said, nodding toward the creatures. Viridis felt his face flush and wondered how long the man had been watching. The stranger laughed. "Don't look so guilty, man. You're never too old for BBs." He held out his hand. "Glad to meet a proper connoisseur of candy. The name's Pester."

"Viridis," he burped, producing several small gnats that circled Pester's head, diving in and out of his beard.

"May I join you?" Pester asked.

Viridis nodded, keeping his mouth shut, and Pester sat down on the seat opposite him. Muscles rippled beneath the man's shirt. His hands and arms were callused and the weathered look on his face suggested he spent a lot of time outdoors. He reminded Viridis of a lumberjack—the kind who would rather chop down a tree with an axe than with a wand.

"I used to be pretty good with these back in my youth," Pester said, eyeing the open pack of Beast Belchers with poorly disguised envy. "I, uh, don't suppose you'd happen to have any extra, would ya?"

Viridis handed the box to Pester. "Here, take the rest. My stomach doesn't seem to like them anymore." Viridis cringed as Pester immediately poured half the contents of the box into his mouth.

"Thanks," Pester mumbled as he chewed. "You headed to Hogsmeade?"

"Hogwarts."

Pester nodded. "I was surprised to find the Hogwarts Express running today. Sounds like a fair number of people are headed up to the school. Some sort of meeting up at the castle, I gather."

"It's the competition to choose the new headmaster."

"Ah. Should have guessed. I'd heard Murmann was leaving." Pester glanced down at the study guide lying on the seat, then gave Viridis an appraising look. "Are you competing for the job?"

Viridis hesitated. "I haven't decided yet." He watched Pester's face for his reaction to this, but Pester only burped, producing an impressively large grayish-green lizard on his first try, which Viridis found slightly annoying.

"Not sure if you want the job?" Pester asked.

"No, the job sounds great. But some people might think I'm too young to be a headmaster." Again, he studied Pester's face for his reaction.

Pester shrugged. "Can't say as I know much about being a headmaster, although I suppose there's nothing wrong with getting a little youth into the school. It's no fun when the teachers are all old and gray." He dumped the rest of the Belchers down his throat. "Some of the wizards I ran into at the front of the train seemed a might full of themselves if you ask me. That's why I came back here." He winked at Viridis. "Can't imagine any of them would be caught dead eating BB's."

Viridis grinned. "Probably not."

"Too bad about Murmann's leavin'," said Pester. "Seemed like a decent guy. Did quite o' bit of work fer him too."

"Oh? What kind of work?"

"Dejinxing, mostly." Pester burped, producing a beautiful pink phoenix that glided around the compartment several times before landing on the luggage rack above their heads. It let out a small screech and promptly burst into flames. Pester withdrew a card from his pocket and handed it to Viridis.

Roger Pester

HEXTERMINATOR

Hex and Curse Removal, Dejinxing, Repelling Charms.

Poltergeist and Pest Control

"Why did Professor Murmann hire you?" Viridis asked, brushing phoenix ashes out of his hair.

"Pest control."

"I didn't know Hogwarts had pest problems."

"As far as I know, it usually doesn't, but this year the school has been plagued by them."

"What kind of pests?"

"All kinds. First it was maggots, probably from some wet, nasty place deep down in a dungeon somewhere. They just started showin' up in the main levels, getting into the kitchens, ruining the food, and causing havoc. Drove the house elves crazy. Right disgusting it was, but they was easy enough to drive off." Pester burped up a niffler and a scorpion before continuing.

"Didn't think much about it at the time. That kind of thing happens in old buildings and Hogwarts is certainly old. Then a week later, the spiders showed up. In the beds, in everyone's clothes, the classrooms—just everywhere. You can imagine how the first years enjoyed that. It took a bit longer to convince them spiders to go back where they came from."

Viridis glanced up at the spiders he'd burped up earlier. One of them was already building a web in a corner of the compartment.

"I've got nothing against spiders, mind you," Pester said, after producing a puffskein, a rat, and a blast-ended skrewt. "Any castle worth its salt has spiders. But they have to behave themselves, if you know what I mean. I thought maybe they had followed the maggots, just looking for a good meal—but then the bats appeared."

"What? Inside the castle?"

"Yep. Flying up and down the corridors. Roosting in the Great Hall. Flying around outside in the middle of the day. Imagine that! Stayed together in flocks, too, just like birds. Strangest thing I ever saw. Took a week to chase them back to their cave." Pester leaned back in his seat and belched up a raven. "And now it's snakes."

Viridis ducked as a blast-ended skrewt jetted across the compartment, crashing into other creatures and scattering them like bowling pins. The cabin was becoming rather crowded. "What's going on at Hogwarts?"

"No idea. Thought there might be some sort of hex or curse at work, but I checked for those the last time I was up at the school and found nothing." Pester shook his head. "Don't get me wrong. It's good money, but it's like something is driving all them creatures crazy up there."

Pester grew silent and Viridis stared out the window. The rain was coming down in sheets now, making it difficult to see more than a few feet from the train. He wondered if these problems had anything to do with Murmann's sudden departure.

Viridis turned back to ask another question, but Pester was sitting stiffly, with an alarmed look on his face. His arms were wrapped tightly around his stomach, as if he were about to be sick. Viridis frantically searched the compartment for a place to take cover in case Pester did get sick, but there wasn't much room available.

He had just decided to dash out the door when Pester released a thunderous belch that rattled the windows. A yellowish bubble the size of a watermelon oozed out of Pester's mouth, transforming into a golden dragon almost two feet in length. Viridis's jaw dropped. He'd always suspected the Beast Belcher dragon was a myth. The dragon circled the compartment lazily, its snout sending out tiny jets of fire. The rest of the creatures huddled together fearfully in the corners.

"Ahhh," Pester said, looking quite pleased with himself, "that's more like it. Wasn't sure I could still do that."

The two of them spent the next several hours talking—comparing their favorite candies, telling stories about Hogwarts, and arguing over the best method for driving off imps. As the hours passed, the sun continued to set, and the already dreary day turned darker. The rain had finally ceased, but thick, black clouds blanketed the sky, making it difficult to see much of anything outside the train other than the occasional light far off in the distance.

Time passed quickly, and in what seemed no time at all, the rhythmic click-clack of the tracks began slowing and Viridis suddenly realized they were nearing Hogsmeade station. His stomach twisted at the realization he was closer to Hogwarts than he'd been in a long time.

"Well, it's been a pleasure talking with you, Viridis," Pester said as he stood and stretched, "but I need to check my equipment before we arrive." He shook hands with Viridis. "Good luck in the competition—if you decide to enter, of course," he added, winking. "You have my card. And thanks for the BB's." Pester slipped out the door and headed to the front of the train.

By the time the train eased into the station, Viridis's heart was pounding and his chest was so tight he could scarcely breathe. What had he gotten himself into? Would he be able to step out onto the platform or would he end up sleeping on the train tonight? He remained seated long after the train had stopped, waiting while the other passengers left. Excited voices drifted in through the windows.

"It's great to be back at Hogwarts again. I haven't been here in years."

"I return every year for the Gryffindor-Slytherin match. Someone almost always ends up being injured."

Viridis rose, grabbed his overnight bag, and plodded stiffly down the length of the train until he reached the steps to the outside. His entire body shivered as he climbed down and stepped onto the platform. Nothing happened. His knees felt shaky and the metallic taste of fear filled his mouth, but he'd done it. He'd made it to Hogsmeade station. He leaned against the train and grinned weakly. All he had to do now was survive the short trip to the castle.

The lanterns illuminating the station careened wildly in the wind, casting eerie shadows that danced across the station walls. Passengers milled about the station in small groups, waiting to board the carriages that would take them up to the castle. Viridis couldn't help noticing everyone else on the platform was at least thirty years older than him.

Viridis stayed back while the rest of the passengers boarded their carriages. When he was the only person left, Viridis approached the next carriage. He steeled himself. This was it. Once he entered there would be no going back. He took a last deep breath and entered the carriage. It rolled forward as soon as he was seated.

Gripping his overnight bag to keep his hands from shaking, Viridis closed his eyes, not wanting to see where he was headed. Even with his eyes closed, however, he'd taken this ride so many times he knew it by heart. He heard the chirping of the frogs as they circled the lake, recognized the slow, bumpy curve that brought him around to the front of the castle, and knew the exact moment when the carriage passed through the iron gates with the winged boars. Only then did he have the nerve to crack open his eyes and peek out the window.

There wasn't much to see. Thick, black clouds obscured the moon, cloaking the castle in near darkness. Other than a few lighted windows here and there, the castle and surrounding grounds were nearly invisible.

By the time his carriage entered the courtyard, the other carriages had already dropped off their passengers and left, leaving the area quiet and empty. Light spilled out from the open castle door, seeming to welcome him back home after a long and difficult journey. His heart swelled. This was where he belonged. Where he'd always belonged.

A sudden exhilaration shot through him. The fear wasn't as terrible as he'd expected. Sure, his heart pounded in his ears and his entire body was shaking, but he _knew_ he was going to be able to step out of the carriage and enter the castle. Why hadn't he thought of using the Hogwart's Express years ago? He reached for the carriage door.

Without warning, a break in the clouds suddenly bathed the entire area in the bright, silvery light of the nearly full moon, granting Viridis a perfect view of the castle… and the surrounding grounds.

It was as if someone had punched him in the stomach. He doubled over in agony as the curse took hold, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Stabbing pains racked his body and a vise tightened around his head. The old hauntingly familiar scream echoed within his mind.

He fought to tear his eyes away from the scene outside his window, but to no avail. Darkness pulled at his vision and the world started spinning until, mercifully, everything went black.


	5. Chapter 5 - Headmaster Murmann

5\. HEADMASTER MURMANN

"Vir, can you hear me?"

Viridis woke to find himself being shaken by the shoulders. He opened his eyes, only to be blinded by a bright blue light hovering inches in front of his face. He slammed his eyes shut.

"Vir, wake up!"

Recognizing Dawn's voice, he cautiously cracked one eye open. The light had been replaced with Dawn's face, her eyebrows knitted together in concern.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think so." He peered past Dawn and saw the roof of the carriage, illuminated by the light from her wand. He turned his head to the side and discovered he lay on the floor of the carriage, his overnight bag lying open next to him, its contents scattered across the floorboards.

"What happened?" he asked. His head throbbed and the carriage seemed to be spinning.

"That's what I want to know. Everyone else arrived fifteen minutes ago, so I came out here looking for you." She sighed. "I thought you'd chickened out on me."

He ran his fingers along his forehead and found a small bump above his left eye. "The last thing I remember was the carriage pulling up to the castle—" He gasped and turned to the carriage window. Hogwarts loomed over him in the moonlight. Terror stabbed him through the heart and he squeezed his eyes shut again.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Dawn asked, fear rising in her voice.

"Nothing." He struggled to quell the panic rising inside him. "My head hurt for a few seconds. That's all."

"That doesn't sound like nothing to me. Maybe I should get Madame Sanare."

Viridis forced his eyes open, making sure to face away from the window. "No, don't bother. I feel better now." The last thing he needed was the school nurse asking him questions. He shuddered at the memories of St. Mungo's.

"Are you sure? You don't look any better. In fact, you look terrible."

Viridis glanced down at himself and discovered he was curled up into a ball, his legs pulled tightly against his chest. "It's no big deal," he said, forcing his body to uncoil. "I must have dozed off and fallen out of my seat."

Dawn stared at him incredulously. "You fell asleep during the ride up from Hogsmeade station?"

Viridis climbed back into his seat. "I haven't slept much the past few nights. You know how I get before tests." His stomach emitted a low growl.

Her eyes narrowed. "What did you eat for breakfast this morning?"

"I was too nervous to eat breakfast."

"What about lunch?"

"I bought a sandwich on the train."

Dawn pointed to the sandwich lying on the floor, still in its wrapping. "You mean that one?"

"Er, yeah."

"So what _have_ you eaten today?"

Viridis lowered his head and blushed. "Half a box of Beast Belchers."

She rolled her eyes. "Men. You have no idea how to take care of yourselves. You probably passed out from hunger."

Viridis said nothing, content to let her believe that had been the problem. She began stuffing his belongings back into the overnight bag.

"Come on. Let's get you inside before you pass out again."

"Inside?" His voice sounded as if he were being strangled. The thought of leaving the carriage twisted his stomach into a knot.

Dawn stared at him. "Of course. Were you planning on sleeping out here tonight?"

"No, but…" Viridis racked his brain for a reason why he should stay in the carriage. If he stalled long enough, perhaps the clouds would cover the moon again. "Maybe I should rest here for a while."

"I thought you said you were fine."

"I am, but—maybe I should eat something first. Perhaps you could bring me something from the kitch—"

"Shhhh!" Dawn said, holding a finger to her lips. "What's that sound?" Viridis listened. A soft buzzing echoed throughout the carriage.

"It's coming from you," she said.

Viridis reached inside his shirt pocket and pulled out Murmann's business card. The picture of Murmann was no longer smiling. His arms were folded across his chest, one finger tapping impatiently.

"Rest time's over," Dawn said. "Murmann's waiting." She pushed the carriage door open and climbed out.

Moonlight poured into the carriage. Viridis gasped and shrank away from the door. Dawn grabbed the overnight bag and held out her hand to help him down. He didn't move.

Her eyes clouded with suspicion. "Come on, Vir. What's the problem?"

"Just being careful," he said, taking a deep breath and edging toward the door. He grabbed Dawn's hand for support, unsure if his shaking legs would hold his weight. Keeping his eyes focused on the ground, he eased out of the carriage, ready to leap back inside should the fear become too great. As soon as he stepped onto the stone pavement, however, the carriage lurched forward. Panic enveloped him as the carriage circled the courtyard and disappeared back the way it had come, leaving them alone in front of the castle.

"Ewww." Dawn wiped her hand on her robes. "Why are your hands so sweaty? Do you have a fever?" She felt his forehead and frowned. "Let's get inside before you catch a chill."

His heart hammering, Viridis closed his eyes and allowed Dawn to guide him toward the castle doors. The distance wasn't far, but the walk seemed to last forever. By the time they reached the steps, his breaths were coming in ragged gasps and his ears were ringing.

Dawn dragged him up the steps. "Geez, Vir, you look as pale as the castle ghosts."

Sounds of laughter drifted out from the castle, and Viridis's heart skipped a beat. _How much worse would his fear be inside the castle?_ He stumbled through the doors and slumped against a wall, keeping his eyes shut and hoping he wouldn't pass out again.

To his surprise, his terror began to melt away. A sense of security washed over him, like being wrapped in a warm blanket. His entire body relaxed, the world stopped spinning, and his breathing returned to normal. He opened his eyes to find Dawn peering at him.

"Maybe you should skip Murmann and go straight to the nurse," she said.

"No need," he said, straightening up, making sure to keep his back toward the still open door. "I feel much better now." His anxiety had faded to almost nothing, like he'd woken from a bad dream. He smiled weakly.

Dawn frowned. "Hmmm… The color _is_ returning to your face, but I still think you should let Sanare check you over."

"If I feel faint again, I promise to do that. Right now, what I need is some food."

Murmann's card buzzed again and flew out of Viridis's pocket to hover in front of his face. Murmann was frowning now, holding a pocket watch in one hand and pointing at it with the other.

"Maybe I should see Murmann first," Viridis said.

"He's in his office. I'll take you there."

"I know how to get there. I haven't been away that long."

"Don't argue," Dawn said. "I'm not leaving you alone until you've eaten."

As they traveled through the castle corridors, Viridis couldn't believe how much better it felt to be inside the castle than outside. He hadn't realized his fear of Hogwarts was actually a fear of the castle grounds, although now that he thought it, it did make sense. Too bad he hadn't realized that before. Of course, now that he was inside the castle, he was trapped until he could figure out a way to leave.

"You look much better now," Dawn said.

"I feel better. Thanks for coming to find me."

"Anything to show you my office."

They rounded the corner, heading down the corridor leading to the headmaster's office. "How is Professor Murmann acting these days?" Viridis asked. "Does he still enjoy his practical jokes?"

Dawn grinned. "He animated a skeleton in Limbeck's office last week, if that answers your question."

Viridis nodded. The potionsmaster had always been a favorite target of Murmann's pranks, probably because of Limbeck's poor sense of humor.

When they arrived at the stairs to the headmaster's office, the griffin statue that normally guarded the entrance stood off to one side. "I guess he's expecting you," Dawn said. "We'll talk more after dinner." Viridis stepped onto the spiral staircase and waited as it carried him up to the office.

He wasn't looking forward to this meeting. Any lingering thoughts he might have had about entering the competition vanished the moment he'd fainted in the carriage, and he suspected Professor Murmann would be disappointed with his decision not to compete. Viridis's goal had been to find out if he could return to the school, and that question had now been answered. No need to embarrass himself competing for a job he had no chance of winning. Dawn would be upset too, but she'd get over it.

The stairs ground to a halt, leaving him standing in front of the headmaster's door. He ran his hand through his hair a few times, then knocked. His knuckles barely touched the wood when the door flew open, revealing a small man whose bald head barely reached Viridis's chin. Deep purple robes hung on the man's thin, wiry frame like a tent. His pointed wizard's hat, decorated with symbols of books and stars, teetered precariously to one side of his head. The aroma of cinnamon and mothballs wafted out onto the stairs.

"Viridis Olwyn," cried Professor Murmann, flashing the same warm and friendly smile Viridis remembered. "Welcome back to Hogwarts." The headmaster seized Viridis's hand and pumped it with surprising vigor for a man of his size and age. Viridis guessed he must be at least eighty by now. "Come in, come in. I hope you weren't knocking long. I find myself becoming more and more distracted these days."

Viridis had visited Murmann's office many times as a student, and he'd always found it a fun and mysterious place, filled with strange and wonderful objects that spun or bounced or glowed in unexpected ways. Today, however, those items were gone, having been replaced by books. Thousands of them. Crammed into every available space. Stuffed into the dozens of bookcases lining the walls, piled up on furniture and window sills, stacked next to the fireplace (their covers appeared slightly charred), or in large columns that rose from floor to ceiling like stalagmites in a cave. Many of these stacks were so precariously balanced, the only reason they didn't topple was because more books had been used to build supporting structures against which they leaned.

Murmann led him through the maze of books, threading his way toward the large oak desk on the other side of the room. When they were halfway across the room, Murmann stopped and spun around to face Viridis. "Would you care for some tea?"

"Uh, sure," Viridis said, wishing to be polite. His stomach hadn't completely recovered from the Beast Belchers.

Murmann suddenly began prancing around as if his robes were on fire, pulling out his wand and launching spells in all directions. A fire roared to life in the fireplace and a terra cotta teapot glided over to float above the flames. Teacups, saucers, bowls, and spoons shot across the room like hailstones, landing on a silver tray that had appeared in Murmann's hand.

Viridis watched Murmann's antics with amusement. With his quick, bird-like movements and an inability to sit still for long, Murmann always behaved as if he'd drunk too much tea. He didn't seem to have aged at all in the last ten years. Why had Murmann decided to retire now?

"Please take a seat," Murmann said, vaguely waving in the direction of some chairs next to the desk with one hand while attempting to balance the tray and its contents with the other. "The tea should be ready shortly."

Both chairs were buried under mounds of books, so Viridis chose the one with the smallest pile and moved the books to a nearby table, an upside-down pyramid balanced precariously on its point. The uppermost book was titled _The Hundred Best Pranks of the Last Millennia._ Viridis froze. Murmann had always had a strict policy against pulling pranks on students, but Viridis was no longer a student. He eyed the chair suspiciously.

"Looking for something?" Murmann's eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Just making room to sit."

Murmann grinned as if he had read Viridis's mind. "No need to concern yourself. There are no surprises waiting in that chair."

Viridis remained dubious. "You'll understand if I don't believe you."

"I understand perfectly, my boy, but this meeting is too important for practical jokes." Viridis raised a skeptical eyebrow. Murmann had supposedly once pulled a practical joke in the middle of a funeral.

The headmaster held up his right hand. "I solemnly swear there will be no pranks during the meeting." Still not entirely convinced, Viridis eased himself into the chair. Nothing happened.

"It's good to see you again," said Murmann, sitting down behind the desk and setting the tray in front of him. "It's been much too long."

"It's good to be back, Professor."

The teapot whistled. Murmann snapped his fingers and the teapot floated over to the desk. "So what's kept you away from Hogwarts all this time? Unless I'm mistaken, you haven't been back since graduation, something I've always found surprising. I was under the impression you enjoyed your time at the school."

"I did. I… I've just been… busy." Viridis looked away, pretending to study the pile of joke books.

"I see. And what's been keeping you so busy you couldn't come back for a visit?

"My, er, work. I have my own business, you see. I investigate antique magical objects and figure out how they work."

"Interesting. Is there much call for that kind of work?"

Viridis nodded. "You'd be surprised at the number of unidentified magic items lying around the country. And with the Ministry's recent obsession with limiting contact with Muggles, it seems everyone is scouring the countryside for magical artifacts before they find their way into Muggle hands."

"Excellent, excellent." Murmann poured two cups of tea and handed one to Viridis, who stared at it suspiciously. "Glad to see you're keeping yourself busy. Mucking about with mysterious magical objects sounds exciting—and satisfyingly dangerous."

"I've had a few close calls. Nothing serious." Viridis sniffed the tea, but smelled nothing unusual. He took a sip. It tasted fine.

"If I remember correctly," Murmann said, "you left Hogwarts a few days before the end of your final term, right after taking the NEWTs. Was there any particular reason?

Viridis inhaled sharply. Murmann remembered that? How much did he know of the events of that night? "Personal reasons."

Murmann remained silent, as if waiting for Viridis to elaborate. Viridis shifted uncomfortably in his chair as the silence deepened, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Even the headmasters in the portraits hanging on the walls around them seemed to be waiting for an answer.

Finally, Murmann sighed and lifted his teacup. "It's not important. Just something I've always wondered about." He took another sip of tea and Viridis released the breath he'd been holding.

"Let us move to the present," Murmann continued, his smile returning. "I assume you're anxious to begin the competition?"

"Well," Viridis began, hesitantly. "I think, uh… I've, er… decided against entering."

"What?" Murmann's eyes filled with disappointment. "You're not interested in being the headmaster of Hogwarts?"

"No—I mean, yes. Being headmaster sounds great, but I, uh, don't think I'd be very good at it."

"Why not?"

Viridis blinked. "You mean besides the fact I have no experience in being a headmaster?"

Murmann shrugged. "Neither did I when I first took the job."

"Well, I… I guess that's true, but at least you'd been an instructor beforehand."

"True. But many of the candidates here tonight have never taught before either."

"I'm not a powerful wizard."

Murmann placed his teacup on the desk. "I'll admit power can be an important consideration for a headmaster, especially when one has to deal with influential wizards who might have their own ideas on how Hogwarts should be run." He sighed. "The Board of Governors comes to mind. They mean well, but tend to meddle in affairs they don't understand.

"But I digress. In truth, powerful wizards don't always work out as well as one might expect. Of course, there have been notable exceptions, Luther Olustrius for example, and of course, Albus Dumbledore, perhaps the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever known." He gestured toward the portrait of Dumbledore on the wall behind him. Dumbledore appeared to be asleep, but his cheeks were turning a bright shade of red.

"Okay," said Viridis, "even if we assume I would make a decent headmaster, most of the witches and wizards here tonight would make even better ones."

"Don't be so sure about that." Murmann fixed his gaze on Viridis. "Is there a specific reason why you would not be able to perform the job of headmaster?"

"No," Viridis said, deciding it best not to mention his earlier fainting spell.

"Good. It's difficult to define what makes a good headmaster. Hogwarts has had its share of good ones, but there have been bad ones too, along with smart ones, dull ones, cruel ones—even silly ones. Did you know I wasn't the first Hogwarts headmaster known for his practical jokes?" Viridis shook his head. "Horatio Carbunculus was the greatest prankster in the history of the school. A personal hero of mine. He wrote an entire book dedicated solely to Hogwarts jokes. Absolutely brilliant. Sadly, he made the mistake of pulling a prank on a student. It backfired and the incident ended badly."

"Is that why you never target students?"

Murmann nodded. "But I seem to be rambling again. My point is that it's impossible to know who will make a good headmaster until they've actually _been_ headmaster."

"Why are you retiring?" Viridis asked, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction.

The question seemed to take Murmann aback and it was a while before he answered. "It requires a certain level of energy to keep Hogwarts running smoothly, and I find myself with less of it these days. Also, the headmaster of Hogwarts is privy to all manner of secrets and mysteries, many of which I've longed to investigate further. Such investigations require extensive travel and an ample amount of free time, so I've been forced to put most of them on hold for years. Retirement will allow me to pursue those mysteries."

"But why retire now, partway into the school year?"

Murmann leaned forward, his fingers steepled on the desk. "I have said all I wish to say on the matter. I'm not the topic of this meeting, Viridis, you are. Your attempt to change the topic has failed."

Viridis slumped back in his chair. "I still don't think I'd be a good headmaster."

Murmann waved his hand as if brushing off the argument. "If you care about Hogwarts and you know your magic, both of which I know you do, then you'll be fine. You'll certainly do as well as those who only wish to add Hogwarts as another notch on their belt."

"You mean Feathergill, don't you?"

"Among others."

Viridis hesitated. "What about my age?"

"Ah," Murmann said, leaning forward again, his eyes gleaming brightly, "I believe we have finally hit upon the true reason for your reluctance. Do you fear everyone will think you too young?"

Viridis stared into his teacup. "It wouldn't be the first time. Has there ever been a headmaster my age before?"

"No. But is that because younger wizards are incapable of performing the job or because no one your age has ever bothered to enter, convinced they had no chance to win?"

Viridis shrugged.

"I'd be disappointed if you declined to compete because you were afraid what others might think. You were one of the best students Hogwarts has ever had. What would be the harm in competing?"

"I might embarrass myself."

"Rubbish." Murmann stared at him for a bit, then suddenly bounded to his feet like a rabbit flushed out of its hole and darted to one of the bookshelves, motioning for Viridis to follow. He ran his hand along one side of the bookshelf. With a slight click, the bookshelf slid soundlessly away from the wall to reveal a hidden room. "Look inside."

Half expecting a bucket of water to fall on his head, Viridis poked his head into the room and found it jammed full of the kind of unusual objects Murmann used to keep in his office. A three-foot-high golden statue of a dragon with ruby eyes. A set of metal balls whirling in the air as if tossed by an invisible juggler. Dozens upon dozens of interesting items.

"Welcome to _my_ room of mysteries," said Murmann, a hint of pride in his voice. "You're not the only one who enjoys mucking about with strange magical objects."

Viridis stared at the room's contents, his mouth dry with anticipation. It was like having your own personal Borgin and Burkes. "Where did you get all these things?"

Murmann rubbed his hands together. "I've used my position here at Hogwarts over the years to collect objects I find interesting. One of the perks of being a headmaster, if you take my meaning."

"Do you know what they all do?"

"Not nearly as well as I would have hoped," Murmann admitted. "They do not give up their secrets easily, which, I suppose, is why they were mysteries in the first place."

As Murmann slid the bookshelf back into place, Viridis spotted a full-length mirror in the back of the room, sitting apart from the rest of the items. The markings around the outer edge of the glass seemed vaguely familiar, but he had no chance to study them further before his view of the room was cut off.

"I might decide to leave this collection for the next headmaster to study," Murmann said. "Just imagine what would happen if someone like you, with a knack for solving magical mysteries, had access to these items. Of course, for that to happen, you'd have to enter the competition."

"Enter _and_ win," Viridis said. "What are the chances of that happening?"

"You never know." Murmann grinned. "But you were invited to the competition. Why not make the most of it?"

Viridis lowered his head, staring at the floor. "I don't know how my name even got on the list of invitees in the first place. Someone must have made a mistake."

Murmann laughed, a kindly laugh, full of warmth. "My dear boy," he said, placing his hand on Viridis's shoulder. "Who do you think submitted your name to the committee?"

Viridis legs nearly buckled beneath him and he grabbed the bookshelf for support. " _You?_ Why?"

"I had many reasons," Murmann answered, "but you only need to know one. Many of the candidates here tonight are sufficiently skilled in magic to make reasonable headmasters. What they lack is your love for Hogwarts. You may be inexperienced, but you'll always put Hogwarts first and that's why you'd make the best headmaster in the long run. And as the current headmaster of Hogwarts, I believe my opinion carries some weight."

Viridis's head spun. How could he possibly refuse without insulting Professor Murmann? His eyes drifted back to the bookshelf and he thought of all the magical artifacts waiting behind it. Perhaps he _was_ being too cautious. After all, what harm would there be in entering? A few stares? He was used to that. He had no chance of winning the job, but it would make Murmann happy and the competition might even turn out to be fun. Besides, competing would give him more time to figure out how he was going to leave the castle without passing out.

"Do any of the tests take place outside the castle?" Viridis asked.

Murmann's eyebrows raised in puzzlement. "Not as far as I know." He folded his arms behind his back and fixed Viridis with a stare. "Enough of this waffling. Will you enter the competition or not?"

Viridis met Murmann's eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay, I'll do it. But I still don't think I have a shot at winning."

"Nonsense," Murmann said, holding out his hand for Viridis to shake. "And trust me," he added, winking, "you have a much better chance than you think."

"What do you mean—owww!" A jolt of electricity shot through his palm, running all the way up to his shoulder. He jerked his hand out of Murmann's grasp and stared at it. His palm was red and his hand throbbed. Murmann began laughing uncontrollably, slapping his thighs and staggering about the room until he finally collapsed into his chair, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Hand shockers," he wheezed, holding out his hand for Viridis to see. A lightning bug was secured to his palm with a short piece of thread. The insect buzzed angrily, sending out tiny sparks in all directions. "Simple, yet effective." Murmann wiped the tears from his eyes. "The classic pranks never go out of style." With a snap of his fingers the thread disappeared and the bug darted out the window.

Viridis glared down at Murmann. "You promised there wouldn't be any jokes during the meeting."

Murmann looked up at Viridis in surprise. "Didn't you agree to participate in the competition?"

"Yes."

"Then the meeting was over." Murmann clapped his hands together. "Come on, let's go eat. I'm starving."


	6. Chapter 6 - Homecoming

6\. HOMECOMING

As he and Murmann walked along the corridors leading to the Great Hall, Viridis couldn't shake the feeling that this was somehow all just a dream. Three days ago, he'd been sitting at home, convinced he would never visit Hogwarts again, and now here he was, strolling through the castle, talking with Professor Murmann, and about to compete for the job of headmaster.

The throbbing in his hand, however, convinced him that it was all very real. He shook his hand, trying to bring some feeling back into it. He began to understand why Professor Limbeck had always been so annoyed with Murmann.

As they approached the Great Hall, the familiar din of hungry students drifted out through the open doors and Viridis's pulse quickened. By the time they'd covered the last few yards and stepped through the doors, the blood was pounding in his ears. Viridis slowed to a stop, his emotions roiling as memories of the hall came flooding back. The long wooden tables, the suits of armor along the walls, the banners hanging from the ceiling (Ravenclaw, he was pleased to note), the odor of hot wax, the moonlit glow of the enchanted ceiling. The only noticeable difference was the extra set of tables brought in to accommodate the additional guests.

A hush fell over the hall and heads turned in their direction. With a start, Viridis realized dinner must have been waiting on him. Murmann nudged him forward, indicating he should sit with the rest of the candidates, then headed off to join the instructors at the High Table.

Feeling everyone's eyes on him, Viridis hurried to the nearest empty seat and sat down next to a wizard with orange hair that draped lazily to his shoulders. The silence of the hall gave way to the buzz of a hundred whispers and Viridis blushed. He hadn't felt this conspicuous since he'd put on the Sorting Hat his first day at the school.

Up at the High Table, the faculty was also staring at Viridis. Most of them wore puzzled expressions, except for Dawn, who appeared relieved that he'd returned. Viridis was surprised to find there'd been a large amount of turnover amongst the faculty in the last ten years, and he recognized less than a third of the instructors. He was happy to find Professor Searles was still around. The good-natured Charms instructor had always been a favorite among the students, due, in part, to his bushy crop of shockingly white hair and perpetually beet colored nose that always made it appear he was suffering from a cold. Next to him sat Professor Evergreen, the Herbology instructor, and beside him was the astronomy instructor, Professor Hibbitt.

And of course, there was Professor Limbeck, who sat at his usual place on Murmann's right. Over six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders and a crew cut, the potionsmaster towered over the rest of the faculty. His bloodshot eyes, supposedly the result of having stared into too many simmering cauldrons over the years, were noticeable all the way across the hall.

Murmann rapped his knuckles on the table and the hall quieted. "I wish to welcome all those who have come to participate in the headmaster competition." Despite his small frame, his voice carried to the farthest reaches of the room. "Though there can be but one winner, I believe each of you will find the experience rewarding."

Many of the candidates nodded and there were general murmurs of agreement. Viridis scanned the tables for any familiar faces, but didn't recognize anyone, except for the green-cloaked wizard from the train station. The man was glowering at Murmann with undisguised contempt. He turned to the witch next to him and said something that caused them both to laugh.

"I would ask that the candidates stay within the prescribed areas of the castle," Murmann continued. "If you require any assistance, please feel free to ask any of the faculty or students. I'm confident they will wish to be helpful, as any of you could turn out to be their next headmaster."

Polite laughter floated through the crowd. Viridis glanced at the green-cloaked wizard again, but this time the man was staring right back at him, his eyebrows furrowed together as if he were trying to recall something. Viridis turned away quickly.

"As I'm sure you're all quite hungry by now, I believe it's time for me to quit talking." Murmann clapped his hands twice and platters of food popped into existence on the tables. After a rousing cheer by the students, the hall was soon filled with the sounds of eating.

Pleased to find his stomach recovered from the Beast Belchers, Viridis filled his plate with beef and potatoes and dug into his food. Many of the candidates sitting at his table apparently already knew each another and several discussions broke out around Viridis. He listened quietly while he ate.

"What are you working on these days, Rufus?" a witch in a blue hat asked the wizard next to her.

The man rubbed his hands together. "A most exciting project. You know that cracking sound you hear whenever someone apparates? I'm investigating the cause."

"For what purpose?" she asked.

"So I can prevent it from happening. My goal is to be able to apparate silently."

"Why?"

The wizard blinked a few times, as if he'd never considered this question before. "Well… I'm sure someone would find it useful. Perhaps the Ministry would be interested in being able to enter a building or home without any warning."

The witch frowned. "I don't think I like the sound of that."

Viridis didn't like the sound of it either and turned his attention to a portly witch sitting across the table from him. She had spent much of the meal comparing the food at Hogwarts with that of the thirty-five other banquets she'd claimed to have attended that year.

"How do you get invited to so many banquets?" someone asked her.

"You jush have sho know the righsh people," she replied, food dribbling out of her mouth and onto the table. "Beshides, I've never felsh ish all that neshesshary to ashually be invited." She removed the chicken leg from her mouth and waved it around for emphasis. "To tell the truth, I'm not interested in the headmaster's job at all. I just came for the food." Several people at the table laughed before realizing she was being serious.

"By the way," the woman said, pointing the gnawed drumstick at Viridis, "how did you get invited tonight? Are you an exchange student from another school?"

"Uh, no," he said. "I'm competing for the headmaster's job."

The witch stopped eating, the first time Viridis had seen her do so all dinner. He turned away and listened to another conversation.

"This year, I published five papers on the use of mouse droppings in love potions," said a wizard with glasses so thick they kept sliding down his nose.

"Not bad," admitted the witch sitting opposite him. "I wrote three papers on the suitability of spider eyes in clairvoyance spells. But I could have easily have written two more had I wished."

"I was too busy writing a book to publish any papers this year," piped in a third witch.

"What's the title?"

" _Wizard's Runes and Why We Still Need Them_."

Viridis coughed and turned away. He considered the orange haired wizard sitting to his right. Every article of clothing the man wore—pants, shirt, cloak, bow tie, shoes—was a different color, clashing in so many ways Viridis assumed the man must be colorblind. It was like sitting next to a rainbow.

The man was as rail thin as Murmann and looked to be in his late thirties, which probably made him the next youngest candidate after Viridis. He hadn't taken part in any of the dinner conversations so far, focusing instead on his food, which he attacked with a grim seriousness.

"How about you, young man?" said a voice to Viridis's left. Startled, Viridis spun around to find the wizard with the thick glasses peering at him. "How many publications do you have? You must have written quite a few to be invited to this competition at your age."

Viridis stared at the wizard. He hadn't published any papers or books or anything his entire life. The nagging feeling that he didn't belong in the competition returned like a lead weight in his stomach. More wizards and witches at the table turned towards him, waiting for his answer. His cheeks grew warm.

"I—well, you see—"

"He's not allowed to answer," said the rainbow-colored wizard in a low secretive voice. "We work on a highly classified project at the Ministry of Magic. We're not allowed to discuss it in public."

A shocked silence fell across the table while the wizard speared a slice of potato with his fork. "The only information we can share," he continued, "is that the work is extremely dangerous. Two co-workers have died this year already." Gasps erupted around the table and a few jaws dropped. Viridis stared at the man, horrified. Was the man deliberately trying to embarrass him?

The rainbow wizard glanced over his shoulders as if checking for eavesdroppers. "That last part is a Ministry secret," he said in a voice so low everyone had to lean forward to hear. "I probably shouldn't have said anything. I'd appreciate it if you were to keep this information to yourselves."

Viridis stared down at his plate, his face burning, wishing he could disappear beneath the table. Wasn't it bad enough everyone thought he was too young to compete? Now he was going to become a joke before the competition even began. He braced himself for the laughter.

"I beg your pardon," the wizard with the glasses said in a wavering voice. "I didn't mean to pry into Ministry secrets. I swear I'll speak of this to no one." He swallowed audibly.

Viridis jerked his head up to find people around the table nodding in agreement, their faces anxious, almost fearful. How could they have believed something so ridiculous?

"Thank you." The rainbow wizard returned to his food and an uncomfortable silence settled around the table—that is, until the portly witch began discussing secret ministry banquets she'd attended and soon everyone forgot about Viridis.

After a few minutes had passed, Viridis leaned over to his right stranger and whispered, "Two co-workers died?"

"I thought three might be a tad bit unbelievable," the wizard replied, the edges of his mouth curling into a slight grin.

Viridis covered his mouth with a napkin to hide his own grin. "Do you always tell people you're involved in secret Ministry projects?"

The man shrugged. "It depends. Watching how people react when I say outrageous things is a hobby of mine. It's amazing what people will believe if you invoke the Ministry of Magic. Everyone assumes they're up to something." He popped a small roll into his mouth and chewed. "Since we're co-workers, I suppose we should at least know each other's name. Mine's Corydon Geber, but everyone calls me Cory."

"Viridis Olwyn. Do you work at the Ministry?"

"Oh no," Cory laughed. "They'd never let me work there. I'd be too much of a security risk. Don't know when to keep my mouth shut. I'm the Transfiguration instructor here at Hogwarts."

Viridis glanced up at the High Table and noticed an empty chair next to Dawn. "Why are you eating down here? Are you taking part in the competition?"

"Yep. It's not like I want to win the job or anything, but I couldn't resist seeing the look on Limbeck's face when I told him I was entering. Priceless. Besides, I hear the food served at the final competition banquet is amazing. I hope to make it far enough to be able to attend."

"Good luck," Viridis said.

"Thanks. But between you and me, I probably shouldn't be allowed to win."

"Why not?"

"I'd make a terrible headmaster. I'm not big on authority figures."

"Authority figures?"

"Yeah, you know. The people in charge, like Ministers or aurors—or headmasters. To be honest, I'll probably hate whoever wins the headmaster's job. Unless it's me, of course." He considered this for a moment. "Nah, I'd probably hate myself too."

"You didn't like Professor Murmann?"

"Murmann? Oh no, he's a great guy. Never gave me any trouble, and he always struck me as kind of a trouble maker himself, which is something I can respect. And his practical jokes are works of art."

"I've already had one experience with Murmann's jokes today," Viridis said, rubbing the palm of his hand, which was still slightly pink.

"Hand shocker, I'll bet," Cory said, looking impressed. "He got me with that on my first day too. The man's brilliant."

Viridis wasn't sure if being obsessed with practical jokes made one brilliant, but thought it best not to argue the point. "How long have you been at Hogwarts?"

"It's my second year. I used to teach at Durmstrang, but they didn't appreciate my sense of humor, so I left. Murmann looked me up and here I am."

Platters loaded with pies and cakes suddenly appeared on the table and Cory refused to speak any further until he'd finished dessert.

As soon as dinner was finished, Dawn made a beeline over to them. "How are you feeling now?" she asked Viridis.

"Much better. I'd forgotten how good the food is here."

"So this is the guy you were telling me about?" Cory asked, giving Viridis an appraising gaze. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of him."

"You're not going to corrupt him, are you?" Dawn asked.

"I promise not to corrupt him unless he wins the headmaster's job," Cory said. "Then he's fair game."

The three of them were forced to move aside as a crowd shuffled past them. At the center of the throng was a man wearing an expensive turquoise tunic and pants, along with a black cape and top hat. His fingers glittered with rings and his shoes were so polished they seemed to shine with their own light. His skin was smooth and remarkably young looking for someone whom Viridis was sure was in his late sixties.

"That's Feathergill, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's him," Dawn growled.

The crowd hung onto Feathergill's every word as he regaled them with stories of his younger days. He looked relaxed and confident, apparently at ease with being the center of attention, almost basking in it. Despite his smiles, however, his eyes darted about hungrily, as if searching for weakness or an opportunity to exploit. He strode up to the High Table, crowd in tow, and spoke to Murmann.

"He's probably asking Murmann to give him the password to his office now so he doesn't have to waste time getting it after he wins," Dawn grumbled. "Cory, isn't there anything you could give him? Something that would knock him out of the competition until it's over?"

"Dawn!" Cory said, feigning shock. "I believe you're trying to corrupt me."

"Anything would be better than letting him run Hogwarts."

For the next half hour, Dawn and Cory brought Viridis up to speed on the events that had transpired at Hogwarts over the past several years, including the names of the new instructors, along with bits of gossip about each. Dawn was in the middle of explaining the feud between Professor Thornside and Professor Limbeck when Viridis realized he was having trouble keeping his eyes open.

"If you two don't mind, I think I'm going to say goodnight."

"Good idea," Dawn said. "You want to be well rested for tomorrow. I think the woman in charge of sleeping arrangements is out in the entrance hall."

Viridis found the woman standing on the marble staircase, surrounded by a mob of witches and wizards demanding to know where their beds were and what had happened to their luggage. Viridis joined the line and waited patiently as the harried-looking witch consulted her lists. He was in the middle of a yawn when a woman's voice behind him caught his attention.

"Have either of you been able to learn why Murmann is leaving?" the voice asked. "None of my contacts at the Ministry seem to know."

"Who cares?" a man replied. "I'll be glad to be rid of him."

Viridis turned to find two women and a man in line behind him, all wearing robes bearing Department of Ministry insignias. The man was the green-cloaked wizard from King's Cross. Viridis turned away quickly.

"I've heard rumors he's leaving because of health issues," the other witch said.

"That's a load of rubbish," the man scoffed. "He's leaving because he finally realized he didn't know how to run the school any longer. Took the old fool long enough. We're lucky to be rid of him."

Viridis's hands tightened into his fists, and he almost turned around to confront the man. He no longer felt bad about what had happened at the station.

"I thought Murmann was considered a good headmaster," the first witch said.

"Only because of stories spread by his supporters in the Ministry. Trust me, I work in the Department of Magical Education, and I've had to deal with his incompetence for years.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Viridis spun around to face the green-cloaked wizard. "You're wrong about Murmann. He's a great headmaster."

The woman narrowed her eyes. "Pardon me young man, but shouldn't you be doing homework?"

"I'm not a student," Viridis said, his eyes remaining on the wizard. "I'm here for the competition."

She raised an eyebrow. "Isn't there an age limit for this job?"

The green-cloaked wizard shook his head in dismay. "Apparently they're letting anyone compete these days. It's this constant lowering of standards that's ruining—" His eyes widened in sudden recognition. "Wait," he said, pointing a finger at Viridis, "you were the one at the train station." He stepped toward Viridis.

Before Viridis could reach for his wand, he felt a tap on his shoulder from behind and someone said, "Name, please?"

Viridis turned to find the woman in charge of sleeping arrangements peering down at him. "What?"

The woman gave a sigh that clearly indicated she'd rather be somewhere else. "What's your name?"

"Viridis Olwyn."

"Olywn... Olwyn..." the woman muttered to himself as she studied the sheet of paper in her hand. She scanned the list several times, frowning. "Your name doesn't appear to be on the list of candidates. Would you be listed under another name, perhaps?"

The wizard behind him laughed. "Apparently they haven't lowered their standards after all."

Viridis said nothing, his stomach once again tightening into a knot. Had the healer at St. Mungos been right after all? Was this all just a delusion? Or perhaps an elaborate prank by Murmann? Or Dawn's way of tricking him into coming—

"Wait, here it is," the woman said, turning the parchment over. "It seems someone was under the impression you weren't planning on accepting the invitation."

"Wait, what?" the wizard sputtered. "You're allowing him to compete?"

"His name's on the list." She beckoned to a mangy-looking man with black stringy hair standing off to the side. "Alex, it appears we've got another Ravenclaw."

"What, another one? Ain't room left for any more."

"Well, find him a bed someplace nearby."

Alex grabbed a lantern from a nearby table and motioned to Viridis. "Follow me, sir."

Alex led Viridis up to Ravenclaw tower, mumbling the entire way. "There sure are a lot of you Ravenclaws here tonight. I suppose it kinda makes sense when you think about it, you guys being into knowledge and all that stuff."

They stopped at the door to the Ravenclaw common room and peered inside. So many beds had been stuffed into the room, there was scarcely room to walk between them.

Alex shook his head and led Viridis up a few more steps to a door Viridis vaguely recalled as being some sort of storage room. Inside, boxes and crates were stacked together in piles. A series of shelves held what appeared to be Ravenclaw memorabilia—awards, trophies, books, paintings—all blanketed with dust.

Alex hung the lantern on a hook in the wall, then used his wand to conjure up a bed in the narrow space between two stacks of boxes. "There you go. A bit cramped, but it'll do, I think. Let me know if you need anything. Best of luck in tomorrow's competition." He scurried out of the room.

The nervous excitement that had carried Viridis through the day evaporated, leaving him exhausted and ready for bed. He changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed without giving the items on the display shelf a second thought. Some of them appeared mildly interesting, but he could always check them out later.

He fell asleep quickly, but it was a fitful sleep filled with strange images. He dreamed of being perched on the top of a tall tower standing by itself in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, beneath a purple sky filled with green stars. The roof was slippery smooth and he kept sliding towards the edge. He would scramble back up to the top, only to slide back toward the edge again. This happened over and over again, until he finally slid all the way off the roof and fell, screaming the whole way down, waking just before he hit the ground.

The next morning, everyone arrived in the Great Hall for a hearty breakfast of pancakes and haggis. Cory, wearing a red and white striped robe, sat next to Viridis.

"How you'd sleep?" Cory asked between mouthfuls of pancakes.

"So, so." Viridis pushed his plate away after a couple of bites.

"Don't like pancakes?"

"I get anxious before tests."

"Dawn told me you were good at taking them."

Viridis shrugged. "I still get nervous. And it's been a while since I've taken any." He scanned the faces of the candidates around them, most of whom seemed happy and relaxed. He was surprised to find himself so concerned about the test. It wasn't as if he were going to win the competition, but something about being back at Hogwarts seemed to have revived some of his old competitiveness. Besides, he wanted to show the rest of the candidates that Murmann had been right in submitting his name.

When breakfast was over and the students had left for classes, a woman in purple robes entered the hall. She had a serious, no nonsense look about her that suggested she was used to telling people what to do and expecting them to do it. The hall quieted and her footsteps echoed off the stone floor as she marched to the front of the room.

"My name is Elanor Pussmaid and I am a member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors. We will begin the competition in a few minutes, but I have a few announcements to make first.

"I wish to thank each and every one of you for participating on such short notice. We understand the amount of effort you are putting into this job application and are deeply honored by the number of candidates who wish to become the next headmaster of Hogwarts.

"I would also like to thank you in advance for making the process go as smoothly as possible. Cheating will not be tolerated. Violators will be immediately disqualified. No exceptions.

"We will begin with written exams to determine the top thirty-two most qualified individuals. This will be followed by individual tests to assess your knowledge of magic later this afternoon. The top sixteen candidates will then meet tomorrow in a series of one-on-one challenges to determine the final four contestants. The final competition will be held tomorrow evening. Are there any questions?"

No one raised their hand.

"Very well, then. Please follow me."


	7. Chapter 7 - Preliminaries

7\. PRELIMINARIES

Pussmaid led them across the castle to a section of the school Viridis remembered as being little more than a dead end, a dusty corridor with nothing but spiderweb-filled storage rooms on either side. Certainly nothing large enough to accommodate the hundred or so candidates following her. So Viridis was flabbergasted when Pussmaid halted in front of a large set of double doors he was certain hadn't been there ten years earlier.

The wooden doors were massive, reinforced with heavy iron fastenings. Unfamiliar arcane symbols were carved deep into the wood. Two large men with somber faces and deep-set eyes stood on either side of the entrance, their arms crossed in front of their chests. At a nod from Pussmaid, the men seized the wrought-iron handles and hauled the doors open, their muscles straining at the effort.

The scent of sulfur drifted out into the corridor as the doors parted to reveal a circular room every bit as large as the Great Hall. Windowless stone walls rose high above the floor, curving inward to form a domed ceiling far above their heads. Viridis felt as if he were about to enter a huge, upside-down soup bowl.

Wooden stands ringed the room, ten rows high, reminding Viridis of the seats surrounding a Quidditch field. A dozen witches and wizards, dressed in the same purple robes as Pussmaid, sat in the stands at regularly spaced intervals. In the center of the room were small desks arranged in nice, neat rows, complete with quills and ink.

The two men who'd been guarding the doors ran their wands over each candidate as they entered. Cory elbowed Viridis in the ribs. "Searching for cheaters, I bet."

"Cheaters?" Viridis laughed. "No one is going to—" He was interrupted by a sudden commotion at the front of the line. A book had been discovered hidden beneath the robes of a gray-bearded wizard.

"I can explain," the man pleaded as he was escorted out of the room. Cory winked at Viridis.

When everyone had been searched to the men's satisfaction, the candidates were directed to choose a desk. Pussmaid flicked her wand and thick stacks of parchment appeared on each desk, the pages wrapped in bright yellow ribbon. The letters "B.A.T." were prominently display on the top. Several wizards groaned. Cory leaned over to Viridis and whispered, "Brutally Awful Tests. Ten times worse than NEWTs."

Pussmaid spun her wand counterclockwise and a four-foot high hourglass appeared on the table to her left. Viridis and Cory exchanged looks, then Cory raised his hand.

"How long is this exam?" he asked.

"Five hours," Pussmaid replied, eliciting gasps from several of the candidates.

"Will we be finished in time for lunch?"

Pussmaid glared at Cory until he lowered his hand, then motioned to the two guards. They flipped the hourglass over.

"You may begin now. Good luck."

There was a moment of stunned silence, followed by the sudden tearing of ribbons and rustling of paper, along with a few curses as one of the wizards knocked his stack of pages to the floor. Viridis thumbed through the test. Fifty pages of multiple choice, thirty pages of fill-in-the-blank, and another twenty pages devoted to essay questions. He drew a deep breath, grabbed his quill, and dove into the test.

It was the most oppressive test Viridis had ever taken. Proctors paced back and forth along the aisles, their wands out, glaring at anyone who raised their heads too far. The people in the stands peered down at them like vultures, searching for any signs of cheating. A deathly quiet soon settled over the room, broken only by the scratching of quill pens and the occasional rustling of papers, along with the intermittent sniffling from someone who apparently suffered from a cold.

Despite the overbearing conditions, Viridis remained in relatively good spirits. He'd always been good at taking tests, and as he worked his way through the exam, his competitive juices began to stir. It was no longer about taking the test for Murmann's sake; it was about scoring the highest possible grade, and while many of the other candidates seemed to wear down over the course of the test, Viridis felt himself growing stronger.

The first part of the test covered a wide range of generalized magic with an emphasis on charms, enchantments, and curses. Then the questions became more specialized, focusing on jinxes, transfiguration, and spell components.

The essay questions, as usual, were the most difficult, with question such as, "If you were stranded on a desert island, which five potions would you want with you, and how would you produce them using only coconuts, sand, and dodo eggs," or head-scratchers such as, "Give five reasons why eye of newt is the most important component in the production of potions" immediately followed by "Give five reasons why eye of newt is the least important component in the production of potions."

Only one wizard was caught cheating, a tall man with wild, frizzy hair who'd enchanted his left arm into a magical cheat sheet. No announcement was made. His desk simply began sinking into the floor, carrying the surprised wizard along with it.

"Please remain in your seat until someone comes to retrieve you," Pussmaid told him, her voice stern with disapproval. "Should you see any movement, I strongly advise you to remain perfectly still and avoid eye contact," she added, just before the horrified wizard disappeared from view.

So when the last grain of sand fell to the bottom of the hourglass, Viridis was hardly the only one who let out a sigh of relief. Even so, he felt pretty good about his performance. He was especially pleased there hadn't been a single question on runes.

"Thank you for participating," Pussmaid said. "You will be informed of the results after lunch."

The candidates trudged back to the Great Hall to find it empty, the students having already eaten. They picked at their food in silence, except for Cory, who couldn't stop talking about the test.

"What about that question on the uses of dragon's blood?" Cory asked as he helped himself to thirds of a dessert no one else seemed interested in eating. "How many did you remember?"

"Seven." Viridis said, pushing a cold piece of potato around his plate with a fork.

"Seven?" groaned the wizard next to him. "I thought there were five."

"No," Cory said. "It's five applications of unicorn horns."

"What?" cried another wizard. "I thought that was three. Would you please stop discussing the test!"

"Sorry." Cory leaned next to Viridis and lowered his voice. "Kinda sensitive, aren't they? Hey, did you hear that guy who kept sniffling during the exam?"

Viridis nodded. "It's no fun taking a test when you've got a cold."

Cory chuckled. "He didn't have a cold. He was crying."

Viridis looked up from his plate. "Are you serious?"

"Yep. Felt bad for the guy, too. His tears kept smearing his answers."

Pussmaid entered the hall, tapped several candidates on the shoulder, and led them out of the room without a word. A minute later, she returned and led a few more away. The already subdued hall turned even quieter.

"Do you think it's good or bad to be taken?" Viridis whispered.

"Don't know," Cory said as he popped a last bit of cream puff into his mouth. "But the first guy they picked was the one who'd been crying, so I'm betting on the latter." Viridis watched the portly witch from the previous night snag a platter full of donuts before being escorted out.

After a half dozen more such trips, Pussmaid marched to the center of the hall and addressed the remaining candidates. "Congratulations on having passed the written part of the exam. If you would be so good as to follow me, we will proceed on to the next round."

She led them to a different part of the castle, to another set of massive double doors Viridis didn't remember. When they were opened, however, he was shocked to discover they were back in the same dome-shaped room as before. The desks had been replaced with dozens of dark purple tents and the air smelled of cinnamon.

Pussmaid cleared her throat and gestured toward the tents. "Within each of these enclosures, you will find an object that has been created with magic. You will have ten minutes to duplicate them to the best of your abilities. Your score will depend on how closely your version matches the original. No detail is too small to ignore. The sixteen candidates with the highest combined scores will pass on to the next stage of competitions to be held tomorrow morning."

"I hope you've made your travel plans for this evening," whispered a voice behind Viridis. "I expect you'll be leaving Hogwarts right after this test is over."

Viridis turned to find the green-cloaked wizard smirking down at him.

"He's not going anywhere," Cory said, moving to stand beside Viridis.

The man laughed and walked away, but Viridis's throat tightened. He'd forgotten all about that little problem. What _would_ he do if he didn't pass this round of tests and was asked to leave?

Each candidate was assigned a number and Viridis was told to report to tent number six. Four judges waited inside, one in each corner, their faces impassive. In the center of the tent stood two stone pedestals, one of which held a small fire. The flames danced through the colors of the rainbow.

As if by some prearranged signal, the judges leaned forward in their chairs, their quills poised over leather bound notebooks. Assuming this meant he was to begin, Viridis took out his wand, considered a few options, and then cast a spell. A blue fire with streaks of red appeared on the empty pedestal, flickering for a few seconds before fizzling out in a puff of smoke. The judges began writing furiously.

"Wait," Viridis protested. "I'm not finished yet." The judges continued scribbling, so Viridis turned his attention back to the flame, trying to remember his fire-based magic. For a few frightening seconds, his mind went blank. All he could see was Greencloak's face, laughing at him.

He closed his eyes and ran his hands over his face, forcing himself to concentrate. As simple as it sounded, he knew of no spell that could create flames with so many colors. Now that he thought about it, he realized it would probably be easier to—

 _Click_.

There it was. The old familiar sensation he'd always felt inside his head whenever he figured out the answer to a trick question. Like a key turning in a lock. He'd learned to trust that feeling during his years at Hogwarts. It was one of the reasons he did so well on exams.

The secret, he now realized, wasn't to create a fire that changed colors. The trick was to use colored lights to form a fire. And the Peacock's Tail, an old alchemical spell, would do the trick nicely. With a few waves of his wand, Viridis conjured a flame that cycled through the appropriate range of colors. The judges quit writing and sat back in their chairs, almost seeming disappointed. Viridis spent a few more minutes tweaking the spell until the two flames matched perfectly, then stepped back and announced he was finished. The judges jotted down a few more notes and told him to wait outside.

"How many of these tests are there?" Viridis asked.

"Sixteen." The judge grinned. "Hope you weren't planning on going anywhere this afternoon."

Viridis exited the tent and found several candidates waiting outside, having already finished their challenge. Feathergill was sitting off to the side, his face buried in the day's copy of the Daily Prophet. The Greencloak was nowhere to be seen. Several minutes later, Cory popped out of another tent.

"How did you do?" Viridis asked.

"Shhh!" Pussmaid hissed. "No talking until all the tests are over."

During the next several hours, Viridis faced a dizzying array of challenges—a floating fishbowl with fish, but without the bowl; a self-heating cauldron; a mirror that showed the back of your head when you faced it. The tests blurred together after a while. Occasionally, a candidate had to be dragged from their tent, pleading for "just one more minute." Once Viridis spotted a tent on fire.

Each time Viridis completed a test, he found Feathergill already finished, usually reading a newspaper. He seemed almost bored by the whole process, as if the headmaster's job were already his. On the other hand, Greencloak almost always finished after Viridis, and as the afternoon progressed, the wizard grew ever more angry whenever he spotted Viridis.

When all sixteen tests had been completed, Pussmaid led the exhausted candidates back to the Great Hall in time for dinner with the students. Professor Murmann led the hall in applause as they entered. Some of the candidates waved back wearily. Viridis collapsed into the first empty seat.

Cory plopped into the seat next to him and snatched up a goblet of water. "I'm going feel a little more sympathy for my students after this." He emptied the goblet in one long, noisy swallow. "Did you see how much some of those wizards were sweating? It's scary to think how much of this stuff you forget after you leave school."

Viridis said nothing, wondering if Murmann would let him stay the night if he failed to qualify for the next round of tests.

A student appeared next to them. "How did the test go, Professor Cory? Did you make it to the next round?"

"I don't know yet, Mister Jefferson. The winners won't be announced until after dinner. But thank you for asking."

After the student returned to his seat, Cory turned to Viridis. "My students are rooting for me to make it to the next level, because then I'll have to cancel tomorrow's class. I think a few of them believe if I win the headmaster's job, class will be canceled for the year." He waggled his eyebrows mischievously. "I have no idea where they got that idea from."

After dessert, Pussmaid stepped to the front of the room carrying a sheet of parchment.

"I will now announce the names of the sixteen witches and wizards who will continue on with the competition. I ask each candidate to stand when I call their name so that they may be recognized."

She consulted the list. "Abner Lewington."

A tall balding man at the far end of Viridis's table stood to polite applause.

"Louisa Bickenhill."

A woman in scarlet robes stood and waved.

Pussmaid called out several more names before announcing, "Corydon Geber." A frenzy of cheers erupted from the student tables.

"My students love me," Cory said as he hopped up on top of his seat and performed a little jig.

"Atticus Woodfeather," Hibbitt said, doing her best to ignore Cory's antics.

"Nigel Feathergill." Thunderous applause erupted across the hall as Feathergill stood, tipped his hat, and bowed with a flourish.

After several more names, Pussmaid announced "Infestus Blunt."

The green-cloaked wizard stood and gave Viridis a nasty grin. With a start, Viridis did a quick count and realized there were only three names left to call. His mouth went dry. What if he wasn't called? He glanced up at the enchanted ceiling. The sky was clear and bright from the nearly full moon, with no sign of clouds. He peered at Murmann, looking for some sign he might know Viridis's fate, but the headmaster was speaking with Professor Limbeck.

"Perenelle Lemalf," Pussmaid announced. Viridis's throat tightened.

"Herkimer Clubfoot". His pulse quickened.

"And the final spot is awarded to…Viridis Olwyn."

The air rushed out of Viridis's lungs in a whoosh, as if a hippogryph had kicked him in the stomach. He struggled to rise on legs that had lost all feeling, and it was all he could do to keep from falling when Cory clapped him soundly on the back. Dawn leapt from her chair and whistled. Blunt scowled and turned away.

Once the students left the hall, Viridis, Dawn, and Cory gathered together at the faculty table, trading stories about the day's tests and watching Feathergill strut around the hall, once again surrounded by a mob of admirers.

"Anyone but him," Dawn said. " _Anyone._ Do you know he was quoted as saying that Care of Magical Creatures was a useless class, only taken by Quidditch players who needed to keep their grades up?" Dawn's eyes smoldered. "Who is he to talk? I checked the records and he barely managed to pass the class."

Viridis smiled and said nothing, content with having made it this far. He'd lasted longer than he'd expected and hadn't embarrassed himself. That should be more than enough to satisfy Murmann. Best of all, he'd get to spend one more night at Hogwarts.

Dawn stood. "I have to go and prepare for tomorrow's class. You get plenty of sleep tonight, Vir. I want you well rested for tomorrow."

Viridis wandered back up to the storage room that served as his quarters and sat on his bed, eyeing the exhibits lined up along the shelf. A few of them seemed mildly interesting—a glass box that held a small bolt of lightning that bounced endlessly around inside, an hourglass filled with metal balls, a top that never stopped spinning, but he mostly ignored them. Normally he wouldn't have been able to resist studying such unusual objects and figuring out how they worked, but for once he wasn't in the mood. No point in wasting his last night at Hogwarts.

He walked to the Ravenclaw common room and peered inside. To his surprise, all the beds had been removed and the furniture returned to their usual places. Apparently, he was the only Ravenclaw still left in the competition.

Several students sat curled up in armchairs, busy reading textbooks, and they looked up when Viridis entered. "Is there something you need, sir?" one of them asked.

"No," Viridis said, "just looking around. I have a lot of great memories of studying in here.""

The students stared at Viridis as if he were somewhat mental, then returned to their books. Viridis's eyes swept the room hungrily, taking in every detail—the familiar stains in the carpet, the series of cracks in the ceiling that resembled a dragon if one squinted at it from just the right angle, the scorch mark he'd accidentally left on one of the walls after a botched spell, the spiderweb that apparently still held the unofficial Ravenclaw mascot.

He longed to rush to the windows and drink in one last look at the castle grounds in the moonlight, but the very thought sent shivers through him. He settled for dragging one of the high-backed armchairs to the fireplace and sitting in front of the fire, running his fingers over the well-worn armrests and watching the flames dance in intricate patterns until he fell asleep.

He dreamed of being on a boat out in the middle of the lake. The water was a deep purple, and bright green fish swam around the boat in mesmerizing patterns. He found this oddly calming until tentacles rose up from beneath the surface of the water and tried pulling him under. He woke screaming to find half a dozen students staring at him.

"Sorry," Viridis mumbled as he rose and hurried back to the his bed. He crawled under the sheets and stared up at the dusty ceiling for an hour, dreaming up plausible reasons why Murmann should allow him to use the floo network to return home.


	8. Chapter 8

8\. THE DUST DEVIL

At breakfast the next morning, Viridis couldn't help noticing the remaining candidates paid more attention to him now. A few of them even struck up conversations with him, although these exchanges seemed to be more about learning what sort of competition he might be than friendly banter. Still, it was nice to talk to someone other than Dawn or Cory.

Cory arrived a few minutes later wearing a surprisingly traditional dark pair of pants and short brown cloak.

"Trying to dress more like a proper headmaster?" Viridis asked.

Cory frowned. "All my regular clothes are in the wash." He pulled a bright orange and pink polka dot clip-on tie from his pocket and fastened it to his collar.

When breakfast was over, Blunt marched up to Viridis, dragging one of the judges along with him.

"This is the one," he said, pointing at Viridis. "I want him disqualified."

"On what grounds?" the judge asked.

"Cheating."

Viridis spun on Blunt. "What? When did I cheat?"

"Two days ago," Blunt said. "He tried to prevent me from boarding the Hogwarts Express. An obvious attempt to keep me out of the competition. I demand he be removed immediately."

"That's not true," Viridis said, glaring at Blunt. "There was a… misunderstanding."

The judge rolled his eyes. "I don't care. I have no jurisdiction over matters that occur outside the competition itself. Has he done anything improper since he arrived at the castle?"

"He impersonated a ministry employee," Blunt said. "I have witnesses who will testify that he claimed to work at the ministry. Being a ministry official myself, I can attest that this is a lie."

"That was my handiwork," Cory said, looking rather proud of himself. "Viridis had nothing to do with it."

"You're covering for him," Blunt scowled. "I want them both disqualified."

"It still doesn't matter," the judge said in a weary voice. "There's nothing in the rules against exaggerating in public."

"Are you serious?" Blunt sputtered. His face turned an angry shade of red. "Pretending to be a ministry official isn't grounds for dismissal? This competition is a joke." He stormed off.

The test that morning was held in the same circular room as before, although the room had once again moved to another corner of the castle. The number of spectators in the stands had grown to fifty and the scent of garlic permeated the room. The small blue tents had been replaced with one large tent composed of a silky purple fabric. A small windowless wooden hut stood off to one side, its door guarded by one of the judges. Pussmaid led the candidates past the hut and inside the tent. Except for a dozen or so chairs, the enclosure was empty.

"This next test will be a one-on-one competition to measure your ability to perform under pressure," she announced.

"What kind of pressure?" asked one of the wizards.

"You'll find out soon enough." Pussmaid replied, her expression impassive as usual.

They drew lots to determine opponents. Viridis hoped he'd be matched up with Blunt, wanting to be the one to knock him out of the competition, but to his dismay he found himself paired against Feathergill in the eighth and final match. Feathergill eyed Viridis for a few seconds, as if taking his measure, then harrumphed and sat down to read his morning paper.

"How long is the test?" asked a witch with curly blue hair.

"About twenty minutes," Pussmaid said, "I suggest you make yourselves comfortable."

Pussmaid escorted the first pair of wizards out of the tent and led them inside the wooden hut. The door closed after them.

There was little else for Viridis and the rest of the candidates to do except wait. They broke into groups, some of them offering guesses as to what this test might be, others discussing the kind of changes they'd make to the school should they become headmaster. Not surprisingly, all of Blunt's suggestions involved instituting harsh new rules to increase discipline. Viridis said little, spending his time either staring out the tent at the hut or watching Feathergill read his newspaper.

Emotions warred within him. By all rights, he had no business even being a part of this competition. What kind of a headmaster couldn't even step outside their own school? Still, he owed it to Dawn and the school to do his best to knock Feathergill out of the running, even if the chances of success seemed rather slim.

Cory was in the middle of defending his suggestion that a course dedicated solely to jokes ought to be added to the curriculum when a bloodcurdling scream rang out from outside the tent. Everyone leapt to their feet and rushed to the tent entrance, but they saw nothing unusual. The hut looked the same as before. They listened for a while in a wary silence, but no other sounds were forthcoming, and they reluctantly retreated back into the tent.

"They wouldn't ask us to do anything dangerous, would they?" one of the wizards asked in a quavering voice. No one else spoke. Even Cory, who normally would have responded with an inappropriate quip of some kind, remained stonily silent.

Thirty seconds later, Pussmaid stuck her head into the tent and asked for the next pair of candidates. Her face was business-like, as if there was nothing at all unusual about a scream in the middle of a test. The two wizards scheduled to go next exchanged nervous glances before following her back to the hut.

This pattern repeated itself over the course of the next two hours—twenty minutes of silence, followed by one or more high-pitched screams, and then Pussmaid would pop her head inside the tent and casually ask for the next pair. The atmosphere inside the tent grew tense. No one seemed interested in talking, except for Cory, whose mood had undergone a complete reversal. He sauntered around the tent, babbling about anything and everything, as if he'd had too much wine. When it came time for Cory to compete, he pumped his fist into the air and grinned like a maniac.

"Meet me in the Great Hall when you're done," he told Viridis.

Viridis nodded. His stomach had been in a knot for the last hour. He didn't know which worried him more, facing Feathergill or facing whatever it was that was causing everyone to scream.

Exactly twenty minutes later, a long, drawn-out scream rent the air and Viridis jumped. He couldn't tell if the scream belonged to Cory or not. In what seemed no time at all, Pussmaid appeared and motioned for Viridis and Feathergill to follow. Feathergill appeared unperturbed as he strode confidently toward the hut. Viridis couldn't blame him. After all, he'd bested Viridis's time in all sixteen competitions the previous day.

They entered the shack to find a large wooden table covered with vials and bottles filled with liquids and brightly colored powders. Mortar and pestles, crucibles, flasks, and other equipment for the making of potions were arranged in the center. Sudden hope surged through Viridis. Potions had always been his best subject.

Hanging from the ceiling was rectangularly shaped object with a dark cloth draped over it. It bounced and rattled, swinging from side to side, as if something was attempting to get out. An ominous buzzing came from beneath the cloth. Viridis's mouth grew dry.

The judge directed them to opposite ends of the table. "This competition will test your ability to brew potions, a necessary skill for any headmaster. Your task today is to brew a batch of _doxius contego_."

Viridis and Feathergill stared at the judge blankly.

"Doxy repellant," the judge said. "Useful for ridding castles of doxy infestations. A potion you might be called upon to prepare should you become headmaster." He gestured towards the hourglass on the table. "You will have twenty minutes for the task. The instructions for its preparation have been provided, along with all necessary ingredients. Whoever brews the most potent potion will be declared the winner and allowed to proceed to the next stage of the competition."

"How will you judge the potions?" Viridis asked.

"Good question," the judge replied, pointing his wand at the cloth-covered object swinging above their heads. The cloth vanished, revealing a wire cage containing a half dozen small winged creatures covered in black hair. They buzzed about the cage angrily, attacking the bars of the cage with vicious looking fangs.

"Gentlemen, these are doxies. When the hourglass runs out of sand, the cage will open. The first person to be bitten will be declared the loser." He pointed his wand at the hut's door, and it slammed shut, the lock clicking into place.

Viridis couldn't take his eyes off the doxies. "Aren't their bites poisonous?" he asked.

The judge shrugged. "Yes, but we have an ample supply of the antidote so that shouldn't be a concern, although the bites are apparently painful, so I suggest you put forth your best effort. If there are no further questions, you may begin." He turned the hourglass over.

Viridis skimmed through the instructions. The potion wasn't particularly difficult, but twenty minutes wasn't a lot of time. A trickle of sweat rolled down his forehead as he began grinding a dragon egg's shell in a mortar and pestle. He'd never been bitten by a doxy before. Based on the earlier screams, they must hurt a lot.

For the first time since the competition had begun, Feathergill seemed less than sure of himself. He kept shooting glances at Viridis, tracking his progress. As the minutes passed, the buzzing of the doxies grew louder, as if they could sense what was coming, and it grew harder for Viridis to concentrate on his potion.

By the time Feathergill and Viridis had finished, less than a minute of sand remained in the hourglass. The two potions appeared identical, dark red solutions with a hint of a metallic sparkle. The judge removed a bottle from his pocket and took a few sips of his own red liquid. "The doxies will be released shortly. I suggest you drink your brews now."

Both Feathergill and Viridis lifted their flasks and swallowed their concoctions. Viridis was surprised to find his had a pleasant minty taste.

The instant the last grain of sand reached the bottom of the hourglass, the doxies burst out of the cage, darting and buzzing around the hut. They flit back and forth between the two men, saliva dripping off their fangs and onto the table. Feathergill glared at the doxies as if daring them to bite. Viridis remained still, not wanting to do anything that might attract their attention. Back and forth the doxies flew, each pass bringing them closer to one or the other candidate, until they finally settled into a spot halfway between the two men and waited, as if making a decision. Sweat rolled down Viridis's back.

And then, as if the doxies had come to a consensus, they turned as one and streaked toward the judge. He screamed as they sank their teeth into his arms. He hammered frantically against the locked door, calling for help. Viridis raised his wand.

"Immobulus"

The doxies dropped to the floor in a pile, along with the judge.

As soon as the other judges let him go, Viridis raced back to the Great Hall, searching for Cory. He found him limping down the marble staircase.

"What happened?" Viridis asked.

Cory lifted his robe to reveal an angry welt on his leg.

"You lost?" Some of Viridis's joy evaporated.

"Yeah. I've never been good with potions. I always get Oil of Venus confused with Oil of Mars. Oh well, at least I get to attend the feast. How about you?"

"They ruled it a tie. Both of us will be allowed to continue onto the next round."

"Good for you. Hey, want to take a walk around the castle? The fresh air will do us both some good."

"No thanks," said Viridis, recoiling at the thought. I think I'll go back to my room and rest."

"You're sure?" asked Cory. "It's nice out today."

"Positive."

"Suit yourself. See you at lunch."

When lunch was over, the eight remaining candidates were instructed to return to the Great Hall at one o'clock sharp. On the way to the hall, Viridis ran into Blunt, who put out an arm to stop him.

"I don't know how you managed to last this long," Blunt sneered, "but that ends this afternoon. You are to be paired against me in the next round and I relish the thought of knocking you out of the competition."

"How do you know who we'll be paired with?"

Blunt's smile was annoyingly smug. "I'm not without some influence, young man. If you're smart, you'll bow out before the competition begins." With that, the wizard spun on his heel and stalked into the Great Hall.

Pussmaid led them back to the testing room, which now smelled of lilacs, and directed them to wait on one side of the room while final preparations were made. Just as Blunt had predicted, he and Viridis were scheduled to compete against one another in the first round.

When all was in readiness, Pussmaid led the two of them inside the purple tent. Nearly a hundred people were already squeezed inside, crowding against the walls and whispering excitedly to one another. Two parallel lines had been drawn on the floor in the center of the tent, about a yard apart. A small box sat on the floor between them.

"Would each of you please stand behind a line and face each other?" one of the judges commanded. When the two of them had taken their positions, the judge waved his wand and the box vanished, leaving behind what appeared to be a tiny whirlwind, about a foot tall with a grayish cast.

"Gentlemen," said the head judge, "this is a dust devil. A harmless, simple-minded creature consisting of little more than air and dust and magic. To win this competition and proceed on to the final test this evening, you must persuade the dust devil to cross your opponent's line."

Viridis studied the creature. It spun quietly, hovering about an inch off the floor. It showed no sign of being aware of their presence.

"You are only allowed to entice the creature to move toward your opponent," the judge continued. "You may not physically block it from crossing your own line with any sort of barrier such as a wall or shield. The Imperious curse cannot be used to control the creature, although we're not entirely sure it has enough of a brain for that spell to be effective. You may not attempt to harm your opponent or otherwise disrupt their spells. Any actions which result in the incapacitation or death of the dust devil will result in an automatic disqualification. Are there any questions?"

Viridis remained silent, his mind working feverishly. What little he knew about dust devils had come from hearing Dawn talk about them back during their Care of Magic Creatures classes. All he recalled was that these creatures rarely rose more than an inch or so above the ground and were highly resistant to many forms of magic.

Viridis glanced at Blunt. The man's face brimmed with confidence, as if he already knew what to do. Viridis didn't have a clue.

The judge waited in silence for a few moments before continuing. "Since there are no questions, you may begin—"

" _Incendio_ ," Blunt shouted, pointing his wand at a spot on the ground between the dust devil and himself. A column of fire sprouted from the ground next to the creature, hot enough that Viridis could feel its heat on his face. The dust devil didn't even twitch. Blunt's look of confidence changed to a scowl.

The two of them spent the next several minutes casting spells at the creature with varying degrees of success. Temperature had no noticeable effect and attempts to prod the whirlwind forward with solid objects failed utterly. Viridis had some success with a wind spell, moving it a little way towards Blunt before the wizard countered with his own wind spell.

Then, with a sudden smile, Blunt waved his wand and mumbled a few words. A pile of dust bunnies appeared at Viridis's feet. The whirlwind moved towards Viridis, who suddenly remembered that dust bunnies were the favorite food of dust devils.

For a few seconds, Viridis's mind went blank as he cast about for a way to stop the whirlwind. He couldn't kick the dust bunnies away, since that would be interfering with Blunt's spell and cause him to be disqualified. Then he remembered Dawn once telling him dust devils seldom crossed streams or rivers because they hated passing over water.

He pointed his wand at the ground in front of him and said " _Aguamenti_." Water poured from the tip of his wand, forming a puddle on the floor in front of him. The creature halted at the edge of the water, then backed away as the puddle continued to expand, moving the dust devil back toward Blunt. Blunt responded by creating his own puddle of water, and soon the whirlwind was trapped within a small patch of dry ground midway between the two of them.

There was a lull in the action as both men paused to decide their next course of action. After racking his brain for a bit, Viridis vaguely seemed to recall dust devils were very protective of their young.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an apple he had grabbed at lunch, but never gotten around to eating. He tapped the apple with his wand and, after casting the appropriate spell, transfigured the fruit into a small dust devil. It wasn't a particularly good dust devil—its color was more of a reddish brown and the thing wobbled precariously as it spun—but Viridis hoped it might be good enough to fool the simple-minded dust devil. Viridis tossed the little whirlwind onto the ground right in front of Blunt's feet.

The adult dust devil didn't move. Either it hadn't been fooled or the little whirlwind wasn't enough incentive for the adult to cross over water.

Blunt laughed. "You're a fool, Olwyn. Young and foolish. Depending on sentiments like love and caring are a waste of time. They never get you anywhere."

"What would you suggest?" Viridis asked. "Hate and fear?"

"Of course. Those are the only emotions with any power. Which is why you'd never be a good headmaster. You'd coddle the students too much."

"Hate and fear are never as strong as love and compassion," Viridis said.

"Strong words from someone who has no experience in such matters. But now, thanks to your feeble attempt, I know how to make this dust devil do exactly what I want."

Blunt pointed his wand at the creature. " _Crucio_." The dust devil jerked as if it were experiencing spasms. Several spectators gasped and the judges took a step back, their faces horrified.

"The Cruciatus spell?" Viridis cried. "You're torturing the poor thing?"

"Why not? There's no rule against it." Blunt looked at the judges for confirmation. They exchanged looks among themselves, then nodded reluctantly, their faces grim. Blunt returned his gaze to Viridis. "You are so naïve, Olwyn. You could use the Cruciatus spell yourself to drive the wretched creature back towards me if you wished. Then we'd have a true test of wills to see which of us was stronger."

The dust devil approached the edge of the puddle. It bucked wildly, fighting to avoid contact with the water, but Blunt jabbed his wand again and the dust devil lurched forward. Water was sucked up into the whirlwind, spraying mud everywhere and leaving the creature a bedraggled mess.

With a sudden sickening feeling, Viridis realized he was going to lose. He wouldn't use the Cruciatus spell, even if it meant Blunt became the new headmaster. He glared at his opponent.

"Being headmaster is not about being the strongest wizard."

"Of course, it is," Blunt sneered. "I knew you wouldn't be able to do it. You're too worried about the poor creature's little feelings." He gave his wand another twist and the creature writhed violently as it neared Viridis's line. "I'll show you what I think of feelings." And with that, he raised his right foot and kicked Viridis's imitation whirlwind across the tent.

The adult dust devil instantly darkened like a thundercloud in a late summer's storm. Tiny streaks of lightning flashed within its vortex and the air in the tent suddenly reeked of ozone. The creature bobbed a few times, then launched itself upwards at Blunt's face.

Blunt screamed as the dust devil encircled his head. He clawed at the whirlwind frantically, but it was like trying to wrestle a cloud. The wizard coughed and choked and sneezed, sometimes all three at once, screaming every time the dust devil lit up with another flash of lightning. After several moments of stunned inaction, the judges rushed forward to assist Blunt, and after casting a number of stunning spells, managed to return the dust devil back to its box.

Blunt's entire body trembled, his face black with grime and his eyes white with fear. After the judges assured themselves that he was no longer in danger, they turned their attention to Viridis.

"Viridis Olwyn, you are officially declared the winner. Congratulations on advancing to the final test."

"Nooooo!" Blunt screamed, before collapsing in an uncontrollable fit of coughing.


	9. Chapter 9

9\. THE BANQUET

Had it been up to Viridis, he would just as soon have taken the final test right then and there, but that simply wasn't going to happen. The selection of headmaster was a momentous event for the school and certain protocols had to be followed. There would be a formal dinner (dress robes required), followed by speeches, before the final competition could begin.

The banquet was to be held in the Great Hall that evening, so the students were served dinner early and then chased out in preparation for the festivities. Every house-elf in the castle descended upon the hall, determined to have it in perfect condition for the night's festivities. They scrubbed the floors until the stone gleamed and polished the suits of armor stationed along the walls until one could count the number of floating candles upon their breast plates. Even the spiders living on the ceiling were asked to pack up their webs and sleep somewhere else for the night.

After agreeing with Dawn and Cory to meet at the marble staircase fifteen minutes before the feast was to begin, Viridis headed back up to Ravenclaw tower to rest and change into his black robe.

He lay back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, his mind racing. Two days ago, he hadn't even considered the possibility he might win the competition. His goal had been to do well enough to stay at the castle for a night or two. Now only one last obstacle stood between him and the headmaster's job. He still considered it incredibly unlikely he'd win—Feathergill had also advanced to the final round—but it was fun dreaming about the possibility. Of course, there was still the question of how he'd run the school when he couldn't step outside the castle doors, but he'd worry about that later if he won.

Viridis's musings were cut short when the lantern illuminating the room began flickering and sputtering, the flame threatening to go out. After several seconds of this erratic behavior, the lantern suddenly flared up with the intensity of ten lanterns, bathing the room in a bright orange glare. Viridis watched as what appeared to be drops of molten metal fell onto the shelf holding the exhibits. Without hesitation, Viridis leapt off the bed and pulled the exhibits out of harm's way.

With one last burst of brilliance, the lantern settled back down to its original brightness and stabilized. Viridis examined the lantern carefully, lifting it up and studying it from all sides, but everything seemed normal, with no clue to explain its unusual behavior. Had this been a prank of some sort, perpetrated by one of the students? Or perhaps a stunt by Cory, in a useless attempt to take Viridis's mind off the test?

He returned the lantern to its place and turned his attention to the exhibits, checking them over for damage. The glass box containing the lightning bolt seemed unharmed, although the shelf upon which it sat was burned and pitted. The hourglass next to it hadn't fared as well, however, its wooden frame was charred in several places. The glass seemed unscathed, however, and the device appeared to be still working, although it was hard to know for sure. All the sand lay in the bottom half of the hourglass, while the top half was filled with small metal balls. Every ten seconds or so, one of the balls would slip past the neck and plop onto the sand, where it would slowly sink until it disappeared beneath the surface. Viridis shook his head. He'd never been a fan of modern art.

A description had been provided on a small placard attached to the hourglass. It was written in runes, which further lowered Viridis's opinion of the exhibit, but a translation had been handwritten below the runes. It read, "Time, like sand, swallows all things." Vir frowned. He wasn't sure what it was supposed to mean, but it sounded depressing.

He was about to put the exhibit back on the shelf, then stopped. Figuring out how magic items worked had always been an obsession of his, and though he wasn't impressed with exhibit's artistic value, the magic used to hold the metal balls in place intrigued him. It had been days since he'd tinkered with anything interesting and he could use a good distraction before the final test.

He checked his watch. He still had thirty minutes before he was to meet Dawn downstairs. He smiled and took out his wand. This shouldn't take more than a few minutes to figure out.

"Where have you been?" cried an outraged voice from behind him. Viridis jumped and dropped the hourglass, which struck the shelf with a sickening crunch. He spun to find Dawn standing in the doorway, her face a mixture of anger and disbelief

"Have you been up here the whole time? The banquet is about to start."

He checked his watch and grimaced, his face burning. "Sorry, I lost track of the time." Viridis picked up the hourglass and returned it to the shelf. The device now had a small crack in the glass, and he turned the hourglass to place the damage toward the back.

Dawn shook her head. "The biggest day of your life and you're playing with toys." Dawn looked about the room. "You haven't seen Cory, have you? He's missing too. I assumed he was with you, causing trouble."

When they arrived at the Great Hall, Viridis cracked one of the doors open and peeked inside, expecting to find it mostly empty, but the hall was packed with people, few of whom he recognized. He quickly shut the door.

"Where did all these people come from?" Viridis asked.

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Choosing a new headmaster is a big deal, Vir. The entire Board of Governors is here, along with probably at least a hundred people from the Ministry. The rest are wizards and witches with enough money or political connections to have received invitations."

Viridis peered through the door again. "They're not expecting me to give a speech or anything, are they?"

"Only if you win. So, you better start working on it."

The two of them were so busy watching the crowd, they nearly missed Cory when he appeared dressed in a surprisingly normal robe.

"I don't think I've ever seen you in dress blacks before," Dawn said.

"Haven't worn this thing in years," Cory complained, tugging on the collar. "Took me hours to find it." He peeked down the inside of his robe and made a face. "I think there's something living in here."

Feathergill swept by the three of them, his diamond studded cape flapping behind him. He scarcely acknowledged Viridis's presence.

"Is it me or is he wearing more rings than usual?" asked Cory. "I mean, how many rings can a guy wear anyway?"

"It's too bad he made it this far," Dawn said. "No matter. You'll beat him anyway."

Viridis nodded, but said nothing. It seemed to him that his only chance of winning would be if the final test had something to do with repairing magic items.

They entered the hall. Dawn left to take her usual spot at the Head Table while Viridis and Cory chose seats in the middle of the floor. Only half the floating candles were lit and the Hall was darker than usual, giving the room a mysterious, expectant feel. Excitement hovered in the air like pixie dust.

Murmann rose from his chair and swept his hand across the room. Candles fashioned in the shape of dragons winked into flame along the tables. The room quieted.

"It is not yet time for boring speeches," Murmann said, grinning. He clapped his hands twice and vast quantities of food appeared on the tables—endless platters of chicken, ham, lamb, lobster, fish, and steak, surrounded by bowls of potatoes, pasta, vegetables, soups, and salads.

Cory stared at the food for a long while without moving, his eyes misting. Then he attacked the food as if he hadn't eaten in weeks.

"I earned this meal," he managed to say once between bites of lobster and broccoli. He said nothing more until he finished eating.

His stomach churning, Viridis spent most of the meal nibbling on a dinner roll and watching Feathergill, who'd somehow managed to grab a seat up at the Head table. He looked relaxed and confident, as if he did this kind of thing on a weekly basis. Steed sat a few chairs away, casting nervous glances at Feathergill and dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief.

When dessert was over, Cory leaned back in his chair and groaned in a most contented fashion. His eyes were somewhat glazed, due, Viridis assumed, to the three helpings of cake Cory had devoured in the last ten minutes. Cory wrapped his arms around his waist and closed his eyes. "Wake me when the speeches are over."

There turned out to be only one speech, but it was easily the most excruciating lecture Viridis had ever experienced. Delivered by a wizard who appeared old enough to have been alive when Hogwarts was built, the speech was little more than a detailed history of the school over the centuries, apparently written with the intention of using the word "tradition" as many times as possible. People throughout the hall were soon nodding off to sleep. If he hadn't had to keep kicking Cory every time he began snoring, Viridis would likely have done the same.

The speaker had worked his way up to the most recent goblin rebellion when Viridis heard whispers coming from one of the tables near the door. He turned around to find people pointing at the floor around the table, but there were too many heads in the way for him to see what had caught their attention.

A few seconds later, the occupants of another table scrambled out of their chairs with a series of yelps. This time Viridis spotted the reason. Dozens of green snakes were slithering across the floor, hissing and spitting at anyone who came too close. Snakes poured into the hall from all directions, entering through any crack in the wall large enough to accommodate them. People screamed and scrambled on top of chairs and tables, knocking dishes to the floor. Some pulled out their wands.

Dawn hurried to the podium and eased the aged speaker to one side. "Remain calm," she shouted. "There's no need to panic or hurt the snakes. This species of snake is harmless. Just allow them to pass."

She waved her wand in the air, speaking words too softly for Viridis to hear. With a collective hiss, the snakes turned and headed back to the holes through which they came, quickly disappearing into the walls. Angry murmurings erupted from crowd as they clambered down off the furniture. Murmann stepped to the podium and held up his hands for silence.

"Ladies and gentlemen. My apologies for any inconvenience you may have suffered. Apparently, some of the students felt it appropriate to honor me on my last day as headmaster with a prank. Well played, Slytherin, well played. I salute your ingenuity."

Viridis raised an eyebrow. Based on what Pester had told him, these snakes had nothing to do with pranks, but Murmann's words seemed to have had the desired effect. The mood in the hall lightened considerably. There were even a few uncertain laughs.

"And let us now thank our speaker for his inspiring speech," Murmann continued. There was a long moment of silence as the crowd slowly came to the realization that the "prank" had put an end to the lecture. The resulting roar of applause from the crowd was deafening, and the speaker bowed several times before allowing himself to be guided back to his chair.

With the ceremonies having come to an end, the judges left to make final preparations for the competition while light refreshments were served. People began milling about the hall, and Feathergill soon became the center of attention, attracting large crowds that followed him like a herd of sheep. The other two candidates, a blue-haired witch from Hufflepuff and a wizard from Durmstrang, were each surrounded by a dozen people. The only person standing next to Viridis was Dawn. Cory had run off to change into something more comfortable.

Dawn pointed at a tall woman on the other side of the room who wore almost as much jewelry as Feathergill. "Do you see her? That's Rosa Hibbitt. She donates loads of money to Hogwarts every year. She's not a member of the board of governors, but still has plenty to say on how things are done around here. And she always has the best seats at Quidditch matches. So be nice to her in case you—I mean— _when_ you win."

Viridis spotted a group of Hogwarts instructors standing together off on one side of the hall, talking amongst themselves. Professor Limbeck was among them, his mouth curved into what appeared to be the beginnings of a smile.

"What's up with Limbeck?" Viridis asked. "I've never seen him this happy."

Dawn sighed. "He's been waiting a long time for Murmann to retire." She glanced over at Feathergill, who was standing on top of one of the tables, leading the surrounding crowd in a song. "Of course, if Feathergill wins the job, Limbeck may have second thoughts."

"Are you that sure Feathergill would be bad for the school? With his political connections, it might be good to have him around."

Dawn scoffed. "You need a certain temperament to run a school like Hogwarts, and he doesn't have it. He has his own agenda. We need a headmaster who will stay here and keep it running smoothly—especially these days, what with all the little problems we've been having around here lately."

"Problems? You mean like spiders and snakes?"

"Among other things. Maintenance issues mostly. Doors sticking, water leaking in through the foundation walls, torches not burning properly. That kind of stuff."

"Torches?" Viridis thought back to the lantern in Ravenclaw tower.

Dawn nodded. "Murmann couldn't keep up with them. Every time he'd fix one problem, two more would crop up. He spent all his time running around the school fixing things."

Viridis glanced over at the faculty table where Murmann was talking to Steed. "Do you think that's why he retired?"

"Maybe. He still refuses to discuss the matter. It's possible he—excuse me, but I need to talk with that man over by the door. He lost a Quidditch bet and hasn't paid up yet." She handed him her glass. "Would you mind getting me some more punch, please?"

"Sure," Viridis said, grateful for anything that kept his mind off the upcoming competition. He wandered over to the refreshments table and waited while a house-elf filled Dawn's glass. He could hear Feathergill telling jokes now. His voice boomed across the hall.

Viridis thanked the house-elf and turned to leave, only to find his way blocked by a woman wearing a black robe covered with random white dots. She had long dark hair that hung past her waist.

"Good evening," she said in a slow, eerie drawl that sounded as though three people were speaking in unison. The hairs on the back of Viridis's neck immediately stiffened.

He backed away, bumping up against the refreshments table. "Er, hello," he stammered.

She followed him, trapping him against the table. Her face revealed no clues as to her age; she might have been anywhere between forty and seventy. Piercing black eyes peered out from beneath half-lidded eyes. Her hair swung heavily as she moved, as if were still wet from a bath.

"I look forward to tonight's competition," she said. "I expect you feel the same way."

"Yeah, I suppose so," he said, holding Dawn's glass in front of him as if to shield himself. She acted as though she knew him, although he was pretty sure he would have remembered such a meeting. "Have we, uh, met before?"

"No," She bowed slightly, her eyes never leaving his. "I am Madame Fulcanelli." Her toned seemed to imply that this would explain everything.

Unsure how to respond, he took a sip from Dawn's glass and waited, hoping she'd move off to harass someone else. When it became clear she was waiting for him to speak, he asked, "You know who I am?"

"Viridis Olwyn." The name rolled off her tongue as if she were savoring every syllable. "The stars have interesting things to say about you."

"Stars?" Viridis suddenly realized the white dots on her robe represented stars in the night sky. He recognized Orion on her right shoulder.

"What, er, are the stars saying about me? Nothing too bad, I hope?" He noticed the house-elf working the refreshments table was slowly edging away from them.

"Nothing I'm allowed to discuss with you, unfortunately," Fulcanelli said. "But I can reveal that you appear to have an interesting future." Without warning, her left hand shot forward and caressed the side of his face. Viridis froze as her hand slid over his cheeks and across his nose. She nodded and let her hand fall to her side. "Yes, very interesting."

"Interesting?" The word came out as a croak. He took a large gulp of punch to wet his suddenly parched throat.

She smiled. "I don't wish to delay you. I just wanted to meet the next headmaster of Hogwarts."

Viridis choked, turning and spraying the house-elf with punch. Fulcanelli remained silent as Viridis coughed and struggled to catch his breath. "Do you know something I don't?" Viridis asked when he could speak again.

"Of course." She bowed again. "But I should let you get back to the party. I'm sure we'll talk again soon."

"Looking forward to it," he said, edging his way around her. "Thanks for the, uh, encouragement. I'll need all the luck I can get."

"No you won't." And with that she turned and walked away.

Viridis stumbled back across the hall and found Dawn waiting near the faculty table. "I just met the weirdest person," he said, handing her glass back to her.

Dawn frowned at the nearly empty glass he'd given her. "Didn't I ask you to fill this?"

Ignoring the question, Viridis turned and pointed at Fulcanelli. "Do you recognize that woman? The one with the black and white robe?"

"Sure, that's Madame Fulcanelli. She's part of the faculty here."

Viridis spun around, his mouth open. "You're kidding. What does she teach?"

"Divination."

Viridis rolled his eyes. "Oh, one of those. I should have known." Runes may have been his least favorite subject, but at least it was a real subject. Unlike divination. "Why are they still teaching that rubbish at a reputable school like Hogwarts?"

Dawn's eyes narrowed. "Let's try to be a little more open-minded. Remember, if you win tonight, you'll be working with her."

Viridis shuddered. "Thanks for making the prospect of losing sound attractive. If I become headmaster, my first act will be to promote her to assistant groundskeeper."

"Behave yourself." Dawn rapped him on the back of his head. "You're supposed to be acting like a headmaster. Besides, I like her."

"Why would—"

The peal of a bell echoed across the hall and everyone turned to find Pussmaid standing by the doors. "The test is ready," she said. "All those who wish to attend, follow me. The four candidates are to remain here." She turned and marched out of the room.

"Good luck, Vir," Dawn said as the crowd shuffled out of the hall. "You'll do fine. Just believe in yourself." She hesitated a moment, then gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "For luck," she said impishly before dashing off.

Nearly thirty minutes passed before Pussmaid returned. Feathergill pulled out a ruby encrusted watch and grunted. "How much longer is this going to take? I have a party to attend in Paris later this evening."

Pussmaid fixed him with a stare that would have curdled milk. "You will be given instructions once you enter the room of testing. Remember, cheating will not be tolerated. Any use of luck potions or charms will result in immediate disqualification, as will the use of occlumancy or elucidation spells. You must solve the final puzzle using your own abilities and wits.

She led them across the castle, back to the same doors as before. This time, the two men guarding the door wore hoods that hid most of their faces. Their mouths were grim.

Pussmaid snapped her fingers and four sets of paper and quill appeared, one floating in front of each candidate. "You must sign this waiver before the test begins."

"What kind of waiver?" asked the blue-haired witch.

"A standard contract. One that states you will not hold the Board of Governors responsible for anything that happens during the competition."

"Is the test dangerous?" the Durmstrang wizard asked, his eyes widening.

"Of course not. We pride ourselves on our safety in these matters."

"Then why do we need to sign a waiver?"

Pussmaid shrugged. "You never know what might happen when you have competing spells flying around in a confined area. Sign, please."

Viridis grabbed the quill and scrawled his name on the waiver, which vanished, along with the quill, as soon as he had finished. The other candidates followed suit.

"The candidates are ready," Pussmaid told the men guarding the door. "Let them enter and be judged."

Without a word, the men hauled the doors open.


	10. Chapter 10

9\. THE FINAL TEST

Fog spilled out past the doors and poured into the corridor, gathering and swirling around everyone's feet. The deep rumble of thunder reverberated through the doorway, and a light breeze, heavy with the scent of rain, brushed past Viridis's cheek. For a few frightening seconds, he feared the final test was to be held outside.

With a swirl of his cape, Feathergill pushed past the rest of the group and strode into the room. Ceridwen and Bythesea followed him a few seconds later. With his heart threatening to leap into his throat, Viridis edged forward until he had a clear view of the through the doors.

It was the same testing room as before, but now a large grey cloud filled the upper third of the chamber, obscuring most of the domed ceiling. It slowly rotated about its center as if stirred by an invisible hand. Tendrils of mist trailed down from the cloud, some of them long enough to reach the uppermost row of seats ringing the room. The cloud caught the light of the torches and reflected it back, bathing the room in an unsettling orange glow. Occasional flashes of light within the cloud preceded peals of thunder.

Viridis tore his eyes away from the cloud and examined the rest of the room. The stands were jammed packed with spectators, their furious whispers combining into a noise not unlike the buzzing of bees. In the center of the room stood a large square platform constructed from stone blocks. It was ten feet high and perhaps thirty feet on each side. Stairs led to the top on all four sides. Steed waited beside the platform, a wooden staff in his left hand. He raised his other hand and the room grew quiet, save for the occasional low rumble from the cloud.

"I wish to welcome the candidates to the final competition for the position of headmaster," he said, his voice solemn. "The four of you have proven yourselves to be exceptional witches and wizards, and we are honored by your participation."

The cloud emitted another series of rumbles and Steed paused until it quieted down. Viridis took the opportunity to search for familiar faces in the stands. He spotted Dawn and Cory almost immediately, thanks in large part to the neon green robe Cory had chosen to wear.

"The selection of the Hogwarts headmaster is a ritual as old as the school itself," Steed continued, sweeping his arm dramatically around the room. "In this chamber, many previous headmasters have been chosen. Tonight, we perform the ritual once more."

He bowed to the four candidates. "Would you please ascend the stairs? One to a side, please."

No one moved at first, each peering at the platform as if deciding whether one of the sides might be more advantageous than the others.

"Come, come," Steed said, his voice tinged with impatience. "All four sides are the same. Please choose one."

Viridis moved first, picking the stairs closest to Dawn. She waved and flashed him an encouraging smile as he walked by. He returned the smile, trying to appear confident, even though his legs wobbled so much he nearly toppled off the stairs.

The top of the platform was empty except for four metal braziers, one on each side. Lumps of charcoal lay within their bowls, cold and dark. A thick layer of black sand covered the entire platform, crunching beneath his feet as he stepped off the stairs.

Bythesea had chosen the stairs to Viridis's right while Ceridwen chose the one on his left. Viridis's heart hammered in his chest as Feathergill appeared on the side directly opposite him. He prayed this competition wasn't going to be some sort of four-on-four wizard's duel.

Steed rapped the staff against the stone floor three times in succession, the dull thuds startlingly loud in the silence. The cloud thundered in response.

"I ask the candidates to signal their readiness by lighting their braziers," Steed said.

Viridis quickly thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out his wand, only to have it slip out of his sweaty hand and plop onto the sand. A hot flush ran up his face as he bent down and snatched the wand up, wiping it against his robe before pointing it at the brazier with a trembling hand.

" _Incendio,"_ he whispered. A jet of orange flame spewed from the tip of his wand and ignited the charcoal.

Breathing a small sigh of relief, he checked the other contestants. Bythesea's brazier was already burning, his flames alternating between beautiful blues and greens. Ceridwen's fire danced as if it were alive, hopping from one lump of charcoal to another. Murmurs of appreciation drifted out from the spectators. Viridis looked back at his quite ordinary fire and flushed again.

Feathergill raised his wand into the air, and with a flourish, waved it with a zigzag pattern. A bolt of lightning shot out from the cloud and struck the charcoal in his brazier. A few pieces were knocked across room, but the remainder ignited in a monstrous flame that billowed into the air. Much of the assembled crowd burst into wild applause. Feathergill bowed as if he'd already won the competition. Viridis saw the scowl on Dawn's face.

"There are no points given for style during this competition," Steed said in a disapproving tone. Feathergill roared with laughter, obviously relishing the attention. Any apprehension he'd shown earlier had vanished.

Smoke from the braziers drifted up and mingled with the cloud, which darkened and began spinning faster. A loud clap of thunder echoed across the chamber, and spectators gasped as a hollow glass cube, perhaps ten feet high and wide, descended from the bottom of the cloud. It drifted lazily down toward the center of the platform, eventually landing on the sand with a thud that Viridis felt through his legs.

Rectangular openings the size and shape of doorways were cut into each of the four sides, each facing one of the candidates. In the center of the cube, stood a glass pedestal. A thin chain hung from the pedestal, holding a small key with a glowing red stone set into its handle.

Another series of rumbles drew everyone's eyes back up to the ceiling. Four pairs of metal poles appeared from the cloud, each as thick as a troll's leg, except at the bottom where the pole tapered down to a spear's point. They descended as slowly as the cube had, with each pole positioned on either side of each doorway, less than a hands width away from the walls of the cube. When the poles reached the sand, they began spinning, their sharpened points augering down through the sand. Foot after foot of the poles disappeared into the sand, the downward motion stopping only when the top of the poles were even with the top of the cube. The crowd murmured in anticipation.

With another set of rumbles from the cloud, four thick metal slabs large enough to block the doorways appeared. Two large holes had been bored up through the length of the slabs—holes that lined up perfectly with the poles sticking out of the sand beneath them. _The d_ _oors,_ Viridis thought.

The "doors" continued downward, their holes quietly sliding over the poles until they came to rest against the sand, effectively blocking the entrances into the glass cube. Less than a finger's width stood between the metal doors and the cube.

A bluish light appeared on the surface of Viridis's door, rippling and spreading across its surface like cerulean flames. The light pulsated and twisted and swirled in strange patterns, sliding in and out of focus. Viridis's heart raced as he waited for what he was sure would be a clue that would tell him what to do next. The light sharpened, faded to almost nothing, then sharpened again to form a coherent set of shapes.

Viridis's heart sank.

There, in the middle of the door, in a glowing blue script, were wizards' runes.

Viridis staggered backwards, despair wrapping around his heart. Runes? Why now, during the most important test of his life? Was this some sort of punishment for having ignored them all these years?

He took several deep breaths, forcing himself to remain calm. Perhaps the runes weren't clues after all, or if they were, perhaps no one else could read them either. He glanced at the other candidates. Both Bythesea and Ceridwen were staring at their doors with slack-jawed expressions. His view of Feathergill was blocked by the metal doors.

A breeze swept down from the cloud, rustling his hair, and the scent of rain grew stronger. Lightning flashed inside the cloud and an owl flew out from underneath, carrying a scroll in its talons. It swept down and dropped the scroll into Steed's hands, then disappeared into the cloud again. Steed unrolled the scroll and cleared his throat.

"These are the rules. The first of you to possess the Key of Hogwarts will become the new headmaster. You are free to use any spells you wish, but you must not damage the glass enclosure in any way. The metal barriers have been warded against a variety of spells. It is your task to find a way past them and retrieve the key. You may only enter through the opening directly in front of you. Apparation and similar spells are blocked. You are prohibited from damaging your opponents or obstructing them in any way."

Viridis stared at the door in front of him, trying to ignore the pulsating runes that seemed determined to catch his attention. The obvious solution was to lift the slab high enough off the ground to crawl underneath, but he suspected that wouldn't be easy. Even if the doors hadn't been warded against magic, they might still be too heavy for many levitation spells.

"Are there any questions?" Steed asked. Viridis glanced back at Dawn. Her face was a mix of anticipation and worry, her hands clasped in front of her. Cory looked slightly bored. Fulcanelli sat a few seats away, her eyes focused on Viridis, her expression unreadable.

Steed cleared his throat, but none of the candidates spoke. He thumped his staff on the floor. "Very well. I declare the test begun!"

In almost perfect unison, all four candidates aimed their wands at their doors and shouted, " _Wingardium Leviosa."_ Except for a slight shudder, Viridis's door remained where it was, which was what he'd expected. That would have been too easy. He checked the other candidates' doors and was relieved to find none of them had risen either.

Viridis spent the next several minutes trying every spell he could think of. Locomotor spells. Flying charms for flying or lifting. Destructive spells such as _Confringo_ or _Reducto._ Transfiguration spells to change the door into something either lighter in weight, like feathers, or easily broken, like glass. But none of the spells had any effect. The door had apparently been well warded.

Fresh out of ideas, he checked the other candidates again. Bythesea's strategy appeared to be casting random spells at the door in the hopes one would do the trick. Viridis watched as the wizard conjured up a bolt of lightning and threw it against the door. The bolt bounced off the metal and sped sizzling back to crash into the stands behind him. Spectators screamed and dived for safety.

"Be mindful of the audience," Steed warned.

Bythesea turned and bowed to the audience, apologizing profusely, then turned back to cast more spells at his door. The people seated behind him moved off to find safer seats.

Based on the Ceridwen's wand movements, Viridis thought she might also be trying some sort of transfiguration spell, but her door appeared unchanged.

Viridis stepped to his left far enough to check on Feathergill's progress and was shocked to discover a sliver of light visible between the door and the sand. Feathergill was aiming his wand at the door and concentrating, the strain contorting his face. Viridis held his breath as the wizard managed to lift the door a few inches. For a moment, Viridis feared the competition was about to end, but Feathergill suddenly staggered backwards and the door slammed back onto the sand.

Viridis breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure what spell Feathergill had used, but there was no question the man was a powerful wizard. For his part, Feathergill did not seem upset with this setback. With a flick of his wand, he conjured up a brick and tossed it onto the sand in front of the door. Puzzled by this, Viridis watched as Feathergill attempted to raise the door again. As before, the door only lifted a couple of inches, but that was enough for Feathergill to shove the brick underneath the door with his foot. He released the spell and the door dropped, pushing the brick partway into the sand, but a one inch gap now existed between the door and the sand.

Feathergill conjured up a larger brick and tossed it next to the first one. Viridis's heart skipped a beat. It might take some time, but if Feathergill could keep inching the door up brick by brick, he'd eventually be able to crawl beneath it.

Viridis focused on his own door, his mind working furiously. Perhaps he'd been concentrating on the wrong thing. The doors were warded, but perhaps the poles holding them in place weren't. He tried the same series of spells on the poles, but with no noticeable effect. They too had apparently been warded.

Viridis checked his opponents again. Bythesea's door was engulfed in fire, the flames high enough Viridis could feel the heat. The door appeared unharmed, although the wizard's robes had caught on fire and he was frantically working to put them out.

Ceridwen had disappeared. In her place was a fox that was busy burrowing under the door. An Animagus, no doubt. Fortunately for Viridis, the sand flowed back into the hole as quickly as she dug and she was making little progress. But there were spells to solve that kind of problem and Viridis knew it wouldn't be long before she'd find her way past her door. Feathergill, meanwhile, had managed to build a four inch gap beneath his door.

Viridis closed his eyes and concentrated. He'd always had a knack for figuring out trick questions on a test, and this was just another kind of test. His intuition told him he was missing something important. He just had to figure out what that something was.

He opened his eyes and stared at the door again. The pulsating runes had continued growing in brightness until they were nearly searing his eyes. He was positive they held some sort of clue, but one beyond his comprehension. He cursed himself for having neglected runes in school. Would it really have been that bad if he had spent a little more time on them? Two days ago, he'd told himself that becoming headmaster wasn't worth learning runes. Now he'd study them every day for the rest of his life if meant winning the job of headmaster.

He squinted at the runes, struggling to recall anything he'd learned about them, but his mind came up blank. He couldn't even remember the name of his old runes instructor. And yet he couldn't shake the feeling these glowing runes were somehow familiar, that he'd seen them before. But that didn't make any sense. He hadn't seen a rune since…

The realization hit him like Knockback jinx. These were some of the same runes he'd seen written on the description of the hourglass back in Ravenclaw tower.

He closed his eyes, trying to recall what the translation had been. Something about "eating sand." No, that wasn't it. It was "Time like sand, swallows all things." Were those the runes for time? Was he supposed to manipulate time in some way? He cast about for some ideas, but came up empty. Time manipulation spells were notoriously difficult and he didn't know any.

He checked the other contestants again. Bythesea was throwing spells at the door in rapid succession now, with no apparent success. As Viridis had feared, Ceridwen had done something to thicken the sand in front of her door and was slowly burrowing her way underneath. The gap under Feathergill's door had grown to six inches, almost high enough to crawl under.

Viridis considered the runes again. Perhaps they didn't have anything to do with time. Maybe they stood for "swallow." He racked his brain, trying to think of anything that might swallow a metal door, but other than a few rare creatures, he came up blank.

He wiped beads of sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his robe. What else could the runes stand for? Sand? He shook his head. That didn't make any sense either. What would sand have to do with…. He stared down at the sand in front of him, then up to the door, and then back to the sand.

 _Click._

The solution that popped into his head was so ridiculously simple he almost dismissed it at once. But he'd learned to depend on his intuition over the years, and what did he have to lose? He cast about his memory, searching for the proper spell, then pointed his wand at the sand under the door.

" _Liquidium._ "

The sand glistened as it transformed into quicksand. For a few seconds, nothing else happened, but then, to his utter astonishment, the metal door began sinking. Viridis stepped back, his mind whirling. Of course. He should have seen it before. The whole point of having the metal poles drill down into the sand was to demonstrate how deep the sand went.

Viridis heard shouts from behind him and turned to find most of the crowd staring at him. Fingers pointed in his direction. Dawn was standing, one hand over her mouth, the other gripping Craig's shoulder so hard he was wincing. The other three candidates noticed the commotion and turned their attention to Viridis's door. Three _Liquidium_ spells later, all four slabs were sinking into the sand.

But it didn't matter. Viridis had too much of a head start.

Unless…

His throat tightened. What if spells cast by more powerful wizards caused their doors to sink more quickly? He cast _Liquidium_ on the sand a few more times, but worry continued to nag at him. What if one of the other wizards could change themselves into something small, like a bird, and slip through the small opening forming above the door? He couldn't afford to stand around and wait until his door disappeared into the sand. He needed to get into the cube now.

He leaped and caught the top edge of the sinking door, pulling himself up. This proved more difficult than expected, since the surface of the metal was slippery smooth, giving his feet little purchase. Huffing with exertion, he scrambled upwards until his eyes were level with the top of the door, then his chin, and finally his chest. The door had sunk far enough that over six inches of the opening were now exposed. Not big enough to crawl through yet, but close.

He hung precariously, his elbows and forearms braced against the top of the door, his fingers gripping the opposite edge. The door was only a foot thick, so there wasn't room for Viridis to climb any farther until the opening became large enough for him to stick his head through. It occurred to him that a levitation spell might have been a better option than climbing, but it was too late now. He twisted his head, trying to see what the other three candidates were up to, but his view was blocked under his current condition, and he was afraid shifting his body to give him a better view would cause him to fall.

Ten agonizing seconds later, the opening was large enough to squeeze his head through, and ten seconds after that, his shoulders. He pushed forward into the cube until his body was halfway through, balanced precariously on top of the door. As his weight shifted forward, he suddenly realized he was about to fall through the opening head first. He tried to stop his momentum, but it was too late, his body continued to slide forward. He grabbed at the door and cube in desperation, anything to slow his fall. He somehow managed to flip his body around enough to keep from landing on his head, but his knee cracked against the edge of the cube and he landed on his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

Gasping for breath, he scrambled to his feet, thankful the sand had cushioned his fall somewhat. He limped toward the pedestal, practically falling the last couple of feet. The key hung inches from his face, the sparkling ruby in its handle seeming to wink at him.

Only then did he allow himself a glance at the other candidates. All three stared at him through the glass walls. Shocked disbelief was plastered across Feathergill's face. None of them had even attempted to climb their doors. Viridis grinned. Perhaps there were some advantages to being young after all.

Viridis reached up and grabbed the key.


	11. Chapter 11 - The New Headmaster

10\. THE NEW HEADMASTER

The instant Viridis wrapped his hand around the key, the glass cube, metal slabs, poles, and cloud all vanished, leaving Viridis alone on the platform with the other three candidates. The crowd roared to its feet and fireworks arched across the chamber, detonating in a cacophony of noise and light that illuminated the domed ceiling in a frenzy of colors. The room shuddered as if a giant were outside, pounding on the walls.

Viridis climbed to his feet, wincing at the pain in his knee. Ceriwden stepped foward and congratulated Viridis, shaking his hand and complimenting him on his solution to the puzzle. Bythesea quickly followed suit, wisps of smoke still rising from charred spots on his robe. Feathergill remained frozen in place, his face twitching in fury. He gave Viridis a venomous look, then spun away and stormed down the stairs.

Dawn and Cory charged out of their seats and raced across the floor ahead of the surging crowd. They bounded up the platform two steps at a time. Dawn threw her arms around Viridis in a huge hug that nearly knocked him to the ground. "I knew you could do it," she screamed into his ear.

Cory pounded him on the back. "Congratulations, Viridis. Now that you're headmaster, it's my duty to make your life as difficult as possible."

"I look forward to it," Viridis replied.

The two of them helped Viridis limp down the stairs to where Steed stood waiting, a broad smile spread across his face. "Congratulations, Mister Olwyn," he said as he shook Viridis's hand.

"I told you he was great at tests," Dawn said.

"That you did, Miss Mercher. That you did." He leaned closer to Viridis and lowered his voice. "On behalf of Hogwarts, I wish to thank you for beating Feathergill."

Viridis grinned. "The pleasure was all mine."

Steed nodded. "But we have other matters to attend to. As the new headmaster, your first order of business should be to officially meet the Hogwarts faculty." Steed put his arm around Viridis's shoulders and guided him toward the group of instructors huddled together away from the crowd. They eyed him warily as he approached.

"I present to you your new headmaster," Steed said.

No one responded at first, and then Professor Searles, sporting his usual tweed jacket and bowtie, stepped forward. "Welcome back to Hogwarts, Mr. Olwyn."

"Thanks. It's good to be back."

"I suppose congratulations are in order," Limbeck said, rather stiffly. "I hope you plan on running the school in a more professional manner than your predecessor did. Now if only we could be rid of the rest of the troublemakers around here…" His eyes shifted to Cory.

One by one, the instructors introduced themselves, promising to do whatever they could to make his transition into the job easier. Fulcanelli remained off to one side and said nothing, which was just fine with Viridis. She did nod to him once, although it wasn't clear whether she was congratulating him or saying "I told you so." He looked away quickly.

After the introductions were finished, Viridis spotted Professor Murmann heading toward the exit, a large leather suitcase in hand. Viridis excused himself and rushed over to the former headmaster, catching him just before he reached the door.

"Well done, my boy!" Murmann cried, "Well done! Your solution to the puzzle was inspired. I told you you could win."

"Yes, headmaster, you did. Thanks for submitting my name."

"Now, now," Murmann chided. "I am no longer the headmaster. That's you. Better get used to the title."

"I'll do my best," Viridis said, grinning. He glanced down at the suitcase. "What's that for?"

"I'm off to pursue a mystery that's been vexing me for years. I promised the Board of Governors I'd stay until the new headmaster was chosen and that has now occurred. Goodbye, Viridis. I'll come back and visit as soon as I can." He turned toward the door.

Viridis's smile vanished. "Wait, you can't go now! You have to stay and teach me how to run this place."

"I'm sorry, Viridis, but the travel arrangements have already been made." Murmann patted him on the shoulder. "I have complete faith in your abilities. I've taken the liberty to leave a few helpful items back at my, excuse me, at _your_ office. You should be able to manage until I return. Good luck!" He turned to leave again.

Viridis grabbed Murmann by the arm. "How long will you be gone?"

Murmann shrugged. "Not too long. A couple of days, I expect."

"Just two days?"

"Well, sometimes a couple can mean three or four."

"Oh. Well, I guess I can manage that long by myself."

"That's the spirit. Just three or four days days. Or possibly more, depending on the weather."

"More?"

Murmann shrugged again. "The weather can be fickle, you know. Could add a couple of days to the trip. Probably more like a week now that I think about it."

"A week?" Viridis felt the first pangs of panic lodge in his stomach.

"I understand the timing is rather inconvenient, but my window of opportunity for this task is small. I'll definitely be back in a week or so. In the meantime, I'm sure the instructors will be more than happy to assist you. Trust me. One and a half weeks at the most. No need to look alarmed, my boy. Yes, yes, I'm quite confident I'll be back within two weeks."

"But—"

"Of course," Murmann continued, rubbing his nose thoughtfully, "it's possible my contact will be busy, which might delay me a bit. Certainly no more than a month."

"A month?" Viridis gasped.

"Or less," Murmann offered cheerfully.

"But… but…"

"Oh, by the way, I almost forgot to tell you. Don't lose that key you just won. You'll need it to unlock some of the doors around here." He turned away, then spun back again. "Oh, and another thing. Do you remember the name of the first practical jokester of Hogwarts?"

"What?" Viridis replied, his mind whirling. "Er, no."

"His name was Horatio Carbunculus. You'll want to remember that. That's all. Congratulations again. Goodbye for sure this time."

And with that Murmann darted out of the room before Viridis could say another word. For a few moments, Viridis debated whether he should chase after Murmann, but a crowd of spectators suddenly surrounded him, wanting to shake his hand, and the chance was lost.

Viridis had never been the center of attention at a party before and found the experience both exhilarating and exhausting. People he didn't know followed him around and listened to everything he had to say. They laughed enthusiastically at his jokes, or anything they thought might be a joke. Newspaper photographers took his picture at every turn, and people fought to be standing next to him when those pictures were taken. A house-elf followed him around everywhere, ready to cast a refilling charm on Viridis's glass every time he took a sip. Best of all, no one mentioned his age.

After a couple of hours, however, Viridis began to find his energy levels waning, so he and Dawn slipped off to an empty corner of the Hall.

"How does it feel to be a celebrity?" Dawn asked.

"Pretty nice, I guess. I can see why Feathergill enjoys it so much. But it does wear on you after a while."

Dawn scanned the room. "Now that you mention Feathergill, where is he? I haven't seen him since the contest ended."

"He left without saying a word to me, about ten minutes into the party," Viridis said. "He didn't look happy."

Dawn smirked. "So he's a poor loser, too. Small loss."

"He isn't the only one." Viridis gestured toward a corner of the room where Blunt was speaking with several reporters. His face was crisscrossed with dozens of tiny bandages, and his uncertain movements suggested he'd drunk too much wine. "He hasn't come near me all night. Every time he sees me, he sneers."

"At least he had enough self respect to stay for the celebration. That's better than Feathergill."

"Maybe, but after having met them both, I think you'd rather have had Feathergill as headmaster. He may be arrogant, but Blunt is just plain nasty."

Viridis spotted Madame Fulcanelli on the other side of the Hall. Despite being in the middle of a conversation with several other instructors, she was staring right at him. She still wore the same annoying half smile as before.

"Why is Fulcanelli always watching me?" he complained.

Dawn laughed. "Don't be so paranoid. She's actually very nice. A bit different perhaps, but nice."

Viridis didn't think he was being paranoid. He had yet to catch her when she _wasn't_ looking at him. He felt like a mouse being tracked across the castle's courtyard by a hawk. He shivered.

A woman Viridis hadn't noticed before marched up to him, holding out one of the evening's programs. "Would you mind signing this?" she asked, performing a small curtsy. "I'd be most grateful."

"Sure," he said, flushing deeply, mostly because of the smirk Dawn was giving him.

"How did you ever manage to come up with the proper solution," she gushed. "I'm quite sure I never would have thought of it."

Viridis handed the signed program back to the her. "I don't know. It just sort of popped into my head."

The explanation was apparently sufficient for the woman, for she smiled and departed, but the question nagged at him. The truth was that he'd been extremely lucky. If he hadn't seen the rune earlier, he never would have won the competition. But he couldn't tell anyone about it. The Board might consider his victory tainted in some way, and demand that the test be given again. He was already embarrassed enough with the way he'd lucked into the job that he hadn't mentioned it to Dawn either.

"You seem pretty subdued for someone who just won the job of headmaster," Dawn said, giving him a sharp look. "Is anything wrong?"

"It's nothing. It's just that… well, the faculty didn't seem all that happy with me. They said the right things, but most of them disappeared right after they introduced themselves."

"I wouldn't read too much into that. Tomorrow is a school day and they need to prepare their lessons. Just wait until they get to know you."

By the time midnight rolled around, everyone Viridis recognized had left the party, so he decided it was time for bed. He left the Hall and headed to Murmann's office. _No_ , he reminded himself, _his_ office.

Viridis walked across the castle in silence, his footsteps eerily loud in the deserted corridors. The torches lining the walls crackled and popped as he passed, the flames dancing as if a breeze were passing through the corridor. He rubbed his eyes, deciding he shouldn't have drank so much wine.

When Viridis arrived at the entrance to his office, he found the griffin statue back in its usual position, blocking the way to the spiral stairs. Had Murmann left without giving him the password?

"Open," Viridis said hopefully. The griffin didn't move.

"Viridis Olwyn." Still nothing.

He dangled the Hogwarts Key in front of the statue's face, but to no effect. He searched the statue and surrounding area for a note or clue that Murmann might have left for him, but found nothing. As the minutes passed, it occurred to Viridis that perhaps this might be Murmann's last practical joke before leaving Hogwarts. The idea of returning in a month to find Viridis sleeping out in the hall seemed like the kind of thing Murmann would find funny.

He kicked the statue hard enough to hurt his toe. If Murmann could spend time making sure Viridis knew the name of Hogwart's first practical joker, he certainly could have spent a few more seconds telling him the pass….

 _His mind clicked._ _Click_. (Which is better? If you recall, I just used "click" when he figured out the trick to the final test)

"Horatio Carbunculus," he whispered. The griffin leaped out of the way.

"Why does everything around here feel like a test?" he muttered as the stairs carried him up to the office.

The office door was locked, so Viridis removed the Hogwarts key from around his neck and inserted it into the lock. With a last deep, calming breath, he turned the key and threw open the door.

The office was as empty as a wyvern's nest. No books. No bookcases. No whirling contraptions. Nothing to suggest Murmann had ever been here other than the massive headmaster's desk and two spindly-looking wooden chairs next to it. Even the portraits of past headmasters that hung on the walls were empty, their occupants having left for some other destination.

Viridis stepped inside and slowly made his way across the room, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. He was halfway to the desk when he heard muffled sobbing coming from behind him. He turned and discovered two of the portraits were still occupied. Both headmasters looked miserable, their eyes red as if from lack of sleep. One of them, a wizard by the name of Cletus Bucktooth, according to the inscription below the portrait, was openly weeping.

"Murmann was such a wonderful headmaster," Bucktooth moaned. "I don't know how we'll get on without him."

"Now, now, Cletus," scolded a headmaster whose portrait was labeled Lidius Strongarm. "Let's give the new headmaster a chance. Remember, you weren't all that happy when Murmann first took over either."

Cletus blew his nose into a handkerchief so loudly, it reminded Viridis of a foghorn. "Yes, yes, I know you're right, but you know how much I hate change."

Lidius shrugged. "True, but you—" He noticed Viridis's presence and his face darkened. "What are you doing in here, young man? Students aren't allowed in this room unattended. Leave at once or I'll report you to the new headmaster!"

"I _am_ the new headmaster," Viridis said, holding up the Hogwarts key. Lidius's mouth dropped open.

. "I knew it," Cletus wailed. "It's the end of Hogwarts." And with that he disappeared off the edge of the portrait.

"Wait," shouted Lidius. "Don't do anything rash." And with that, he chased after the fleeing wizard, leaving Viridis alone in the room.

Viridis sighed and continued his inspection of the room.

Three items had been left on the desk—a small, heavily dog-eared book entitled _1001 Practical Jokes for Wizards, Witches, and Poltergeists_ , a large leather-bound object the size of a small steamer trunk, and a handwritten note. He picked up the note.

Dear Viridis,

Congratulations on becoming the new headmaster of Hogwarts. As you have no doubt noticed, I've already moved my belongings out of your office. Hogwarts is now yours to run as you see fit. Do not concern yourself with making mistakes. Just do what you think is right and you'll be fine. I believe you'll find Hogwarts practically runs itself.

I've left you something you might find useful. It's gotten me out of several sticky situations that I may be allowed to tell you about someday. I've taken the liberty to mark a few sections which I believe you'll find very useful – a few pranks that would be particularly effective on Professor Limbeck. We'll talk more when I return.

Good Luck!

Former Headmaster Murmann

P.S. I've also left the Hogwarts instruction manual.

Viridis looked up from the note, suddenly realizing that what he'd assumed to be a steamer trunk was in fact a three foot high behemoth of a book that covered half the desk. The words "Hogwarts Manual" were printed neatly along the spine in giant silver letters. He suddenly felt very tired.

The adjoining room housed the headmaster's living quarters, and he was relieved to find Murmann had at least left the bed for him, along with a chest of drawers. Too tired to remove his robe, he collapsed straight into the bed and closed his eyes. He fell into a fitful sleep, plagued with dreams of being chased around the school by irate instructors demanding that Feathergill be installed as the true headmaster.


	12. Chapter 12 - The Headmaster's First Day

THE HEADMASTER'S FIRST DAY

Viridis woke the next morning to the sound of pounding outside his bedroom door. He bolted upright in bed and stared at the unfamiliar surroundings, assuming he was in some kind of trouble, until he remembered where he was and what had happened the night before. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, hoping this wasn't all just a dream.

The pounding started up again, and this time Viridis realized it was coming from the office door. He leapt out of bed, raced into the office, and threw open the door to find Dawn standing there, her face flushed.

"It's about time," she said. "I was afraid you'd gotten lost or something." Her gaze dropped to his chest and she frowned. "Did you sleep in your robes?"

Viridis followed her gaze. His robe was covered with wrinkles, and the large orange stain that marred the front of his robe looked suspiciously like last night's pumpkin dip.

"I was too tired to change," he said, scratching at the stain with a fingernail. He stopped and looked up in alarm. "Why were you banging on my door? Is something wrong? Did something happen?"

"Breakfast has happened," Dawn said. "At least it was supposed to have happened. Fifteen minutes ago. Everyone's in the hall, ready to eat, but the kitchen refuses to serve any food on the headmaster's first day until the headmaster arrives. Tradition, I guess. Anyway, hurry up and change your clothes. Everyone's waiting."

"Sorry," he said, heading back to his bedroom, "I didn't know—" He stopped and spun back around. "My clothes are still in Ravenclaw tower."

"Never mind." Dawn pushed him toward the door. "There's no time anyway. You'll have to go like this." She rushed him out of the office and down the stairs.

They hurried through the castle corridors, Viridis running his fingers through his hair while Dawn cast _Scourgify_ and wrinkle removal spells on his robe. The din of hungry students greeted them as they approached the Great Hall.

The noise died away as the two of them entered. Students whirled around in their seats to catch their first glimpse of the new headmaster. As Viridis passed between the tables, the students burst into enthusiastic applause accompanied by raucous whistling and shouting. Viridis waved weakly, his face burning, and hurried on to the faculty table.

The instructors were noticeably less enthusiastic. They scrutinized Viridis in silence as he approached, their faces hard. Professor Limbeck's face was as grim as the stone gargoyles that decorated the castle walls. Dawn hurried to her seat at the end of the table and buried her face in her hands. Craig leaned back in his chair and grinned as if this was all a wonderful joke.

"It seems we're always waiting on you to arrive for meals," Limbeck growled as Viridis took his place on the large headmaster's chair just to the left of Limbeck.

"Sorry," Viridis mumbled.

"Maybe we should eat breakfast later in the morning," Craig said, his grin threatening to split his face. "Our new headmaster appears to be a late sleeper."

Viridis shot him an exasperated look. "No need for that."

"Do you find the job of headmaster exhausting?" asked Limbeck. He glared down at Viridis, his bloodshot eyes even more watery than Viridis remembered.

"No, of course not," stammered Viridis. The potionsmaster's face was so close, Viridis could count the veins in his eyes. "It's my fault for staying so late at the party."

Limbeck gave him a disparaging look before turning away.

"I've never missed breakfast for any reason," said Thornside, who sat on the other side of Viridis.

"It won't happen again," Viridis promised.

"Let us hope not." Thornside's gaze took in Viridis's disheveled robe. "We wouldn't want the students thinking their headmaster is a layabout."

An uncomfortable silence descended upon the table, broken only by the furious whispers of students throughout the hall. Viridis prayed the food would appear soon, but several minutes passed without a sign of anything edible.

Limbeck peered down at Viridis. "I believe the kitchen is waiting for you to summon the food."

Viridis gulped. "How do I do that?"

Limbeck closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I wouldn't know. I'm not the headmaster."

"Murmann would often clap his hands together," suggested Professor Searles, who sat a few seats away, wearing his usual bowtie and jacket. The maroon tie matched his red nose perfectly.

Viridis suspected there was probably more to it than that, but as he didn't have anything better to offer, he clapped his hands twice, the way he'd seen Murmann do it the previous night. To his immense relief, large platters loaded with biscuits and sausages appeared on the tables, prompting another cheer from the students.

The instructors ate breakfast in a stony silence. Viridis spent much of the meal casting furtive glances at each of them, trying to gauge their mood. Cory was the only one who seemed happy. Whenever Viridis caught any of the other instructors looking at him, they immediately turned away. The only exception was Professor Fulcanelli, who seemed to be watching him every time he checked.

They were most of the way through breakfast before Professor Searles finally broke the silence. "How were the festivities last night, headmaster? I didn't stay very long. People my age need our sleep."

"Apparently so do people the headmaster's age," Thornside muttered.

Viridis winced. "It was fun for a while, but I left when it turned boring.

Searles nodded. "Why don't you tell us something about yourself? I'm sure we're all anxious to learn about our new headmaster. What have you been up to since you graduated?"

"Well," Viridis began, "there's not much to tell—"

"In which branch of magic do you specialize?" demanded a short, roundish wizard who Viridis thought was the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. "Charms? Potions?"

"Um, I don't really have a specialty."

"What did you do before coming here?"

"I studied old magic items and figured out how they work. Sometimes I fixed them."

The instructor gaped at him. "You're a repairman?"

A flush crept up Viridis's neck. "Well, not exactly—"

"Viridis restores antique magical objects," Dawn added from the far end of the table. Several instructors exchanged concerned looks.

Searles cleared his throat. "Well I suppose we could certainly use someone around here with that talent. Things seem to be breaking around here with alarming frequency these days." He smiled encouragingly.

"What classes have you taught?" asked another instructor whose name Viridis couldn't remember.

"None."

The woman gasped. "You've never taught a class?"

"No, but I always thought teaching might be fun."

"Fun?" She looked scandalized. "Teaching is serious business."

"I didn't mean—"

"What schools have you worked at before this?" asked another instructor who Viridis was fairly sure taught history.

The rest of the instructors stopped eating, waiting for his answer. Drops of sweat rolled down Viridis's back. "I, uh, I've never worked at a school."

"But—what experience do you have with the profession of teaching?"

Viridis stared down at his plate, his cheeks beginning to burn. "None." The table turned deathly quiet, except for a lone spoon that clattered to the floor.

"So, uh… you'll be coming in with fresh eyes," Searles said, his earlier enthusiasm seemingly dampened. He cleared his throat again. "Enough about the past. What are your plans for your first day as headmaster?"

Viridis swallowed, his ears burning like hot coals. He hadn't thought about that yet. He wasn't exactly sure what headmasters were supposed to do. He grabbed his goblet and began gulping down orange juice, stalling for time. Why couldn't Murmann have waited a few days before leaving?

"My plan," he said when his goblet was empty, "is to learn the job of headmaster as quickly as possible." He scanned the faces at the table, hoping the answer was sufficient. "In the meantime, is there anything I can do to help any of you?"

"No," answered Limbeck, turning back to the food on his plate. "I think we're quite capable of performing our own jobs."

"I'm sure you are. I just want to help any way I can."

Thornside's look was condescending. "Hogwarts has been operating for centuries without your help. Most of us have been teaching for decades. We will let you know if we require your assistance."

"Don't be so quick to dismiss Viridis," Dawn said, her voice rising in pitch. "I'm sure there's something he can do to help out around here. Perhaps Professor Evergreen could use some assistance with planting."

The herbologist looked up from his plate, startled at the mention of his name. "All the fall planting is finished, thank you very much. But if the headmaster is looking for something to do, perhaps he could discuss the menu with the kitchen." He held up a sausage on his fork. "Our meals could use more vegetables."

"Limbeck could use help collecting the ingredients he uses in those potions of his," said Thornside. "He always seems to be running out, especially when I am in need of a particular elixir."

"I'm sufficiently well stocked for the term," Limbeck replied, glowering at Thornside, "but thank you for the kind thought. Since we're on the subject, perhaps Mr. Olwyn might be of some use in the area of tutoring."

"Some of the students?" Viridis asked, his spirits rising.

"I was thinking more along the lines of Professor Thornside's sister. I believe her skills are in need of polishing."

Thornside leaped out of his chair and glared down at Limbeck, sputtering, his face turning a frightening shade of purple. He gave Viridis one last withering look, then stormed away from the table and out of the hall. Limbeck smiled and returned to his meal. The rest of the table went silent.

Breakfast couldn't end quickly enough for Viridis.

"Could that have gone any worse?" Viridis asked Dawn after they left the hall. "The faculty already hates me."

"Nonsense," Dawn said. "They don't hate you. They're just going to need a little time to adjust, that's all. We're in the middle of the school year. Give them a chance to get to know you."

"What about Limbeck and Thornside? They actually seem angry with me."

"Don't worry about Limbeck. He wouldn't have liked whoever won. He'll come around.

"That's easy for you to say. You're not sitting next to him."

Dawn laughed. "Limbeck's always grumpy. You know that. He'll get over it soon enough."

"What about Thornside?"

Dawn pursed her lips. "Now that's a different story. Remember the witch you faced in the final competition?"

"Ceriwden?"

She nodded. "She's his sister."

Viridis groaned. "You're kidding."

"Afraid not. Thornside hoped she'd win and give him some leverage over Limbeck."

Viridis put his face in his hands. "I think I've made more enemies in the past week than I have my whole life."

"Like I said, they'll get over it. You're the headmaster now and they'll just have to get used to the idea." She stopped at the intersection of two corridors. "I have a class to teach. I'll see you later. By the way, what _are_ your plans for this morning?"

"Go back to my office and get settled in." He paused. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"Yep. Show up on time for meals from now on."

After stopping by Ravenclaw tower and picking up his clothes, Viridis returned to his office to find a dozen owls waiting inside. All carried messages of congratulation, mostly from people he'd never heard of before. Even the Board of Governors had sent one.

 _Headmaster Olwyn,_

 _Congratulations on winning the job of headmaster. We ask that you put together a status report on the current state of affairs at Hogwarts. It does not have to be long, fifty pages or so should suffice, but we would be most appreciative it if you could finish it as soon as possible. Please note anything unusual or out of the ordinary._

 _Thank you in advance for your prompt response._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Elanor Pussmaid_

Status report? He'd been headmaster less than twelve hours. He tossed the note on his desk and eyed the instruction manual. The Board could wait a day or two. His first task was to figure out what the headmaster of Hogwarts was supposed to do.

The book was heavier than it appeared and he nearly had to climb onto the desk in order to haul it open. The pages were composed of thin, ancient vellum, with gold leaf along the edges. Here and there, small rips and tears obscured the handwriting. In some places, the ink almost faded to illegible shadows.

There had to be tens of thousands of pages, and he had no idea where to begin. Picking a page at random, he found an entry discussing the best methods for removing magical weeds from the castle grounds. He flipped to another page and found a detailed note describing the sleepwalking habits of one of the statues of armor standing in the Great Hall. He jumped back several hundred pages and discovered a collection of juicy rumors about one of the castle ghosts from a previous century. There didn't appear to be any sort of pattern.

He skimmed through the book for an hour, hoping to find anything of use, but every page was the same—filled with gossip or tips or general observations about Hogwarts. Every so often, the handwriting would change, but that was about it. The "instruction manual" appeared to be little more than a collection of random notes and musings recorded over the centuries by previous headmasters. There was no index, or any other obvious way of finding a desired piece of information, except by sheer accident. He slumped back in his chair. He was on his own.

Dawn stopped by his office a little before lunch, two owls perched contentedly on her shoulders, both of them asleep. "Hungry?"

Viridis shook his head. The thought of facing the faculty again was ruining his appetite.

"Cheer up, I'm sure the reception will be better this time."

When they arrived at the Great Hall, both Cory and Searles made it a point to say hello to Viridis. A few of the other instructors nodded politely, but no one else spoke to him. Limbeck and Thornside ignored him completely, behaving as if the chair between them were empty. Viridis remained quiet through most of the meal, content with listening to the instructors talk amongst themselves.

When dessert was served, Thornside, after having spent most of the meal brooding in silence, turned to Limbeck. "In my opinion, we should investigate more thoroughly before we spend any money. Those quills are expensive."

"There's no need for further investigation," Limbeck growled. "I've tested them myself. They don't work."

Viridis glanced back and forth between the two of them, wondering if he should ask what they were discussing, but decided against it.

"Even if I were to take your word for it," Thornside replied, "that doesn't mean we should purchase new ones. The quills shouldn't have stopped working in the first place. Perhaps there's a counterspell at work. One of the students, I'll wager."

Limbeck grunted. "They're supposed to be tamper proof. And I found no evidence of hexes or jinxes."

"Then why don't they work?"

"I don't know. It defies explanation."

"What isn't working?" Viridis asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

Both men stared at him as though he had just apparated into the headmaster's chair.

"It's not important," Limbeck said, looking away.

"It's the Anti-Cheating quills Limbeck hands out to his class during tests," said Thornside, a hint of smugness in his voice. "He wishes to purchase new ones. A waste of money if you ask me."

"They're not preventing students from cheating?" Viridis asked.

"Worse," Limbeck said, turning back to Viridis with a scowl. "The quills apparently force the students to cheat. Everyone scored one-hundred percent on the last test."

"When did this start?"

"Last week."

"Maybe I can help."

Limbeck gave him a withering look. "I doubt it."

"I'm good at fixing things," Viridis said.

"So we've heard. I thought you were busy learning how to be a headmaster. Try focusing on that."

"I'm just trying to help."

"If you're that anxious to help," said Thornside with a nasty smirk, "I have a few teaching awards in my office in need of polishing."

Dawn's gasp could be heard down the entire length of the table. Her face darkened, the owls perched on her shoulders fluttering in agitation.

"Show the headmaster some respect," she said, gripping her fork so tightly her knuckles were white.

Thornside gave her a dismissive look. "I'll give him respect when he earns it, Miss Mercher. Don't let your feelings for him cloud your judgment."

"Feelings?"

"We're well aware you two were romantically involved back when you were students."

Dawn dropped her fork and began rising from her chair, her face contorting in a manner that set off alarm bells in Viridis's head. Thornside pushed his chair back and pulled out his wand. Sensing events were about to spin out of control, Viridis jumped to his feet. "As part of my effort to learn the job of headmaster, I've decided to stop by each of your classes and listen to you teach."

Gasps passed up and down the table. Several of the instructors acted as if they'd been slapped across the face.

Limbeck leveled a withering gaze at Viridis. "So you can tell us what we're doing wrong? How many years have you been teaching?"

Viridis blinked. "What? That's not what I had in mind—"

"I'm insulted you would even consider such a thing," said Thornside. "Murmann never sat in on one of my classes."

"I have several teaching awards," said Professor Evergreen. "How many do you have?"

"Wait a minute," said Viridis, raising his hands. "I'm not evaluating you. I thought sitting in on your classes might show me where I can be most useful."

Limbeck slammed his fist against the table, sending plates and bowls bouncing across the surface. Students turned and gawked. "What don't you understand? Without any experience in running a school, the chances you'd be able to assist us are zero. Until you gain that expertise, your job is to stay out of our way and not embarrass the school." Limbeck stood and threw his napkin onto the table. "I have to prepare for class." He marched out of the hall.

Thornside eyed Viridis with a sneer that would have put Blunt to shame. "My sentiments exactly. This is going to be a dismal year." He shook his head as he rose from the table. "How did you ever manage to beat Ceridwen?" And with that, he followed Limbeck out of the hall. Within minutes, most of the other instructors left too.

When Dawn stopped by Viridis's office a few hours later, two dozen owls were scattered about the room—sitting on windowsills, perched on the chandelier, or huddled together on top of the instruction manual. Viridis was sitting at his desk, writing.

"What's with all the owls?" she asked, grinning. "Are people still sending you congratulations?"

Viridis looked up from his desk and sighed. "That was this morning. Now it seems every department in the Ministry wants me to answer their questionnaires."

"Why are the owls still here?"

"I told them they can leave, but they were apparently instructed to stay until I sent back answers." He put his quill down and pushed the papers away. "I had no ideas there were so many departments in the Ministry."

Dawn grinned. "Well, I suppose paperwork is part of the job description. By the way, do you have today's copy of the Daily Prophet?"

Viridis reach into the wastebasket, pulled out a crumpled up newspaper, and tossed it to Dawn.

"Why did you throw this away?" Dawn said, smoothing the paper out. "There should be a story about you today. You ought to cut it out and frame it."

"You haven't read the paper yet, have you?"

"No, I've been busy with classes."

She opened the newspaper and pointed at the front page. The headline read _Hogwarts Headmaster Chosen_. She grinned. "So you got your name in the paper. Just like Feathergill. What's wrong with that?"

"Read the article."

Dawn skimmed through the words. "Okay, here you are. Sheesh. It took them long enough to mention you by name." She read the words out loud.

" _Viridis Trismegistus Olwyn, after having been allowed to compete for the position of headmaster despite his_ _appallingly young age and a complete lack of experience, somehow defeated several more qualified candidates to become the new headmaster of Hogwarts_."

She looked up from the paper, frowning, "What kind of shoddy reporting is this? And what do they mean by appallingly young?"

"Keep reading."

She read the rest of the story in silence, her face slowly darkening. "This story isn't about you," she exclaimed finally. "It's about whether there should be a lower age limit on future applicants for headmaster. Did you see this quote? ' _These youngsters are too inexperienced to make proper headmasters,' said one unnamed source within the ministry, 'and would tend to coddle the students too much. I fear this new headmaster will do irreparable harm to the school's reputation.'"_

Dawn crumpled the paper into a ball and flung it back into the wastebasket. "This story is rubbish. You're only mentioned once by name and all the pictures are of Feathergill!"

Viridis sighed. "They're already predicting I'll be a disaster."

"Who cares? What do the editors at the Daily Prophet know, anyway? It's the faculty you need to worry about."

"The faculty seems to share their opinion, in case you haven't noticed."

"Don't base your opinions on the behavior of a few socially inept instructors. The rest of them will come around. You'll see. In fact, Professor Fulcanelli already asked that you stop by her office for a chat."

Viridis rolled his eyes. "Wonderful. The only instructor who wants to talk to me is crazy."

"She's not crazy. And you can't afford to alienate anyone right now."

"That's easy for you to say. She doesn't stare at you all the time."

"Don't be silly. Look, I'll admit this hasn't been a great first day, but it's only one day. You've got the rest of the school year to show them what a fantastic headmaster you'll be."

Dawn began pacing back and forth across the office, her eyes blazing with determination—a look that, based on past experience, Viridis had come to associate with trouble. "The first step," she announced, "is to make yourself look more like a headmaster." She stopped pacing and looked around the empty office. "And we can start on this room. It feels like a cave, not a headmaster's office."

"We?"

"Of course. I've seen your house, remember?" She pointed towards the Hogwarts manual. "What's that monstrosity doing on your desk?"

"It's the instruction manual for Hogwarts."

"Seriously? It tells you how to run the school?"

"Not exactly."

"Well, you aren't planning on leaving it there, are you? It takes up most of the desk."

Viridis shrugged. "I've tried moving it, but I think it's magically bound to the desk.Don't know where I'd put it anyway. It would crush most other pieces of furniture." He shook his head. "I wonder where Murmann kept it?"

"Maybe you could ask the previous headmasters for advice," she said, looking up at the empty portraits lining the walls. "Hey, where'd they all go?"

"I think they left in protest. They only stop by to whine about Murmann being gone and demand I tell them who really won the competition."

"Then at least get some furniture in here."

"I talked to Digby about that this afternoon. He promised he'd bring some as soon as he could, but I haven't seen him since."

"Why don't _you_ conjure up a few chairs?"

"I mentioned that to him and he nearly took my head off. Feels it's the caretaker's prerogative to furnish this office and doesn't want me interfering. I'm not antagonizing anyone else on my first day."

Dawn sighed. "I have another class to teach. Promise me you'll see Fulcanelli this afternoon."

"I'll think about it."

"What else do you have to do?" she asked as she headed toward the door. "Either go see her or finish answering these owls. You're the headmaster. Act like one."

Dawn had scarcely left the office when a white owl with tuffs of grey about its eyes flew in through the window, a message tied to its leg. As soon as Viridis removed the note, the owl disappeared back out the window.

"You see?" he told the other owls. "That's how it's supposed to be done." He opened the note to find a short message written in very neat handwriting.

Dear Headmaster Olwyn,

I congratulate you on your new position as headmaster of Hogwarts. I can only assume that you have a great future ahead of you and wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors. However, I feel it's my duty to warn you that Hogwarts will be destroyed before the end of the school year.

Nothing Personal.

A Friend

He turned the note over, searching for a signature or return address, but found nothing to indicate who'd sent it. Anger surged through him. Someone thought he was going to destroy the school before his first year as headmaster was over? He wadded up the note and tossed it at one of the empty portraits on the wall.

Viridis suddenly knew what he should do next. Fulcanelli wanted him to stop by and talk? Perfect. What better time than when he was in a foul mood?

He stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.


	13. Chapter 13 - Madame Fulcanelli

MADAME FULCANELLI

In keeping with the centuries old tradition of Divination instructors choosing offices located away from the rest of the castle inhabitants, Professor Fulcanelli had picked an office that was about as far from the headmaster's office as it was possible to be, forcing Viridis to traipse through a maze of dimly lit corridors, climb several flights of stairs, and pass through no less than two secret doors before he stood outside her office.

He raised his hand to knock on her door, then hesitated. Much of his anger had dissipated during the ten-minute hike through the castle, and he was having second thoughts about facing Fulcanelli again. The hairs on the back of his neck were already standing on end, and the idea of returning to his office and answering the owls' messages no longer seemed quite so onerous.

Perhaps she was busy, he told himself. No need to bother her now. He could always come back tomorrow—or next week if necessary. Feeling a sense of relief, he turned to leave.

The unmistakable voice of Fulcanelli drifted out through the door. "Please do come in, _headmaster_."

He froze.

How had she known he was there? He turned back and searched the door and surrounding area, looking for some sort of peephole or other device that might have revealed his presence to her, but found nothing. Then it occurred to him that if she could somehow see him, he probably looked rather foolish standing out in the hallway. With an audible sigh, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Despite it being mid-afternoon on a bright, sunny day, the room was shrouded in darkness. No light filtered in through the windows. He wasn't even sure the room _had_ windows. Other than the light which spilled in through the doorway, the only sources of illumination were four small candles flickering at the corners of the desk.

Fulcanelli sat behind the desk, her quill poised over a stack of papers. She wore her usual half smile, which Viridis found both irritating and worrisome. She returned the quill to the inkwell.

"Welcome, _headmaster,_ " she said, adding a strange inflection to the title. She gestured toward the chair in front of her desk. "Please make yourself comfortable." The door closed softly behind him, leaving the desk surrounded by a small island of light.

Both the tapestry hanging on the wall behind Fulcanelli's chair and the thick carpeting beneath his feet were a very deep purple, almost black, their purpose apparently to absorb as much light as possible. An ornate and expensive looking ceramic basin sat on a pedestal next to the desk, filled with what he assumed was water. A crystal ball rested on a carved ivory stand at the center of the desktop. Flames of orange light swirled in intricate patterns within the glass orb.

"I'm pleased you find Divination worthy of a visit, _Headmaster_ Olwyn," Fulcanelli said after he had taken a seat. "There are those who would dismiss it as a useless branch of magic, unworthy of a place at a prestigious institution such as Hogwarts."

"Really?" Viridis replied, trying to sound as if the thought had never occurred to him.

Fulcanelli stared at him in silence, her eyes shining black diamonds in the dim light. The urge to look away was overwhelming, but Viridis forced himself to meet her gaze. Only when she looked away did he realize he'd been holding his breath.

The Divination instructor focused her attention on the crystal ball, and the patterns of colors began to whirl more quickly. She hummed a soft tune, one he didn't recognize, but which made his skin crawl.

He took the opportunity to examine her more closely. She wore the same star-covered robe as she had the previous night, but to his surprise, Orion was now located just below her neck instead of her right shoulder. Did she have more than one of these robes? Or did the stars—

"Yes, _Headmaster_ ," Fulcanelli said without looking up from the crystal ball, "the constellations move just as they do in the sky. It's important to know where the stars are at all times. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Er, yes, I guess." He shifted uneasily in his chair. It was becoming difficult to ignore the special emphasis she kept placing on the word "headmaster." Was she mocking him?

She continued to stare at the orb, humming once again, and Viridis wondered if she was waiting for him to do something. The sound of nails scratching against a wooden surface came from somewhere behind him. He peered into the darkness, but couldn't see more than ten feet away.

Fulcanelli looked up from the crystal ball and frowned. "I see you didn't care for Divination when you were a student and you don't think much of it now. Would that be a fair statement?"

Viridis sat there stunned, unable to do much more than glare at the crystal ball. What had she seen in the swirling colors? He tugged on the collar of his robe. "Well, I, er—I'll admit I've had my doubts. The previous divination instructor was rather loony, you see, and her classes were a waste of time."

"Perhaps that is because you do not understand the language of the birds."

Viridis blinked. "Birds?"

"Predicting the future is not an easy task, _headmaster_. The chances of success depend not only upon the skill of the diviner, but on factors often outside of a diviner's control. Perhaps you expected too much from her."

"I didn't expect anything from her. She couldn't predict anything—the weather, Quidditch matches, the volcanic eruption that ended her career—nothing! None of her predictions ever came true."

"The subtleties of predicting the future are often beyond the ability of most wizards to comprehend." Fulcanelli gave him a patronizing smile. "Perhaps you were just ignorant of the situation."

"Ignorant?" Viridis half rose from his chair, his hands clenching into fists. It was one thing to be ignored by the real instructors; no way was he going to let a divination instructor insult him.

"Please calm yourself, _headmaster_ ," Fulcanelli said, holding out her hands as if to placate a small child. "I was not attempting to insult you. My point is that the art of Divination is far more complex than you realize." She smiled. "It was nothing personal."

"Nothing personal? How can that not—"

"A thousand pardons, _headmaster._ Perhaps I should be spending my time preparing for my new career as assistant groundskeeper."

Viridis froze. How had she known about that? Surely Dawn wouldn't have told her. Blushing furiously, he sat back down and willed himself to relax.

"Perhaps you would allow me to instruct you in the practice of Divination," she said.

"I know the basics," Viridis replied. "I did take the class."

"Indeed." She tilted her head to one side as if she found this remark amusing. "How did I know you hated Divination as a student?"

Viridis paused. "I assume the crystal ball told you."

" _Headmaster_ Olwyn, I can only assume you spent your time in Divination class either staring out the window or asleep."

Viridis blinked in surprise. "Now wait just a—"

"Even you should know," she continued as if he had not spoken, "that a crystal ball only shows events that will happen in the future. It does not see into the past or present."

Viridis opened his mouth to reply, then paused. Now that she mentioned it, he did vaguely recall that rule. "Okay, so how did you know?"

"I looked up your grades and read your instructor's notes on you, of course." Her irritating smile widened. "And as far as your present feelings are concerned, your body language told me everything I needed to know."

"Oh," was all Viridis could think of saying.

"If I might continue then? Without interruption?" Viridis reluctantly nodded and she continued. "A diviner has many tools, some more precise than others. Tea leaves, for example, or the reading of palms. When read by a person skilled in the art, they can provide valuable clues as to what the future might hold. Yet these are but hints of what might be, and the interpretation can be difficult. And even when correctly interpreted, the future is not fixed. It can be changed. Do you understand so far?"

"Yes," said Viridis. "You're saying it's not your fault if your predictions are wrong."

Fulcanelli's tone hardened. "That is not what I'm saying. Predicting the future is a complex task. You non-diviners think we should get everything one-hundred percent right. It doesn't work that way."

"I would have been impressed if my instructor had gotten even ten percent right," Viridis said.

"Perhaps she did but never told you about it."

Now it was Viridis's turn to smirk. "Why wouldn't she have mentioned it?"

Fulcanelli folded her arms across her chest. "Now we get to the heart of the problem, _headmaster_. Consider the crystal ball, one of our most powerful tools. It shows us glimpses of the future, but if there are many possible futures, the images it reveals are jumbled—difficult, if not impossible, to interpret. The more uncertain the future, the fuzzier the image. So much can happen between a divination and the event it foretells that the crystal ball can often be useless. We diviners gaze upon the orb, often for days at a time, in hopes that we may come upon an image clear enough to understand. Are you following me so far?"

"Yes," Viridis said. "You're saying that if you can't predict the future, it's the crystal ball's fault."

"You are being deliberately obtuse," said Fulcanelli, her eyes flashing with anger. The water in the basin next to the desk began bubbling ominously and the room seemed to darken further. Viridis's hand instinctively inched toward his wand. Fulcanelli closed her eyes for a moment and appeared to compose herself. The water in the basin lapsed back into silence.

"There is more to it than that, _headmaster_ ," she said, opening her eyes again. "Let us say I used the crystal ball this morning and saw that you will have an accident involving water later today. If I were to tell you about it, what would you do?"

Viridis narrowed his eyes, wondering if this was some sort of trick question. "I suppose I would try to avoid the accident."

"Exactly. And if you were successful?"

"I wouldn't get wet?" Viridis replied, unsure what Fulcanelli was driving at.

She rolled her eyes. "It means I wouldn't have seen the vision in the crystal ball in the first place."

"What?"

"As I said, the crystal ball only shows clear images of the future if that future is nearly certain. If you can avoid that future because you learned of it ahead of time, then the future was never certain to begin with, which means I wouldn't have seen it in the crystal ball in the first place. All I would have seen would be blurry images, which means I wouldn't have been able to warn you, which means the accident would have occurred after all."

Viridis mind whirled as he tried to follow her logic.

"And the same reasoning applies to my own actions," Fulcanelli continued. "If it were possible for me to change the future by acting on what I saw, then the images would have been too blurry for me to see.

"Wait a minute," Viridis said, a glimmer of understanding working its way through his head. "Are you saying the crystal ball only shows you the future if you don't tell anyone about it and don't try to change it?

She bowed her head. "There is hope for you yet, _headmaster_. The best gazers are those that do not reveal what they see." She raised her chin, pride radiating from her face. "And I am an excellent gazer."

"But if you can't tell anyone about the future, or do anything about it, what good is a crystal ball?"

"Even with those limitations, I assure you the technique can be quite powerful in the hands of an expert. I may not be able to stop an event from happening once I observe it in the crystal ball, but I can still prepare for it. If the crystal ball were to show you falling from the castle roof, for instance, then it is fated to happen and nothing I could do would stop it. But that doesn't mean I can't be waiting on the ground at the proper time, ready to cast a levitation spell."

Fulcanelli leaned back in her chair and steepled her hands. "Being able to see the future and deciding how best to shape it is a great responsibility—one far greater than you may ever understand. It is only for those of us who have the necessary strength to use it properly. It is not an easy life being a diviner, but it is a sacred trust. We must often work in subtle ways, ways not understood by others."

"This all sounds very convenient," Viridis said. "Have you actually predicted anything that came true?"

"I predicted Murmann would retire."

"Did you tell anyone?"

"Only Murmann."

"As I said, convenient. Any other predictions?"

"I told you that you would become headmaster, if you recall."

"As far as I know, you might have said the same thing to all four candidates in order to convince whoever won of your supposed prophetic abilities."

Irritation flashed across Fulcanelli's face. "I assure you I did not. The crystal ball clearly showed you winning the competition."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't?"

The two of them glowered at one another in silence for a bit, then Fulcanelli leaned forward, her eyes as piercing as a wyvern's talon. "I do not need a crystal ball to know your position here at Hogwarts is, shall we say, precarious. It would be to your advantage to accept me and heed my counsel."

Viridis bristled. "In other words, you want to tell me to do, don't you? You think I'm too young and inexperienced to be the headmaster."

Fulcanelli brushed the words away with a flick of her hand. "That is not for me to say. The stars told me you would become headmaster and I accepted their decision. Your age means nothing to the stars, therefore it means nothing to me."

"Not exactly a ringing endorsement."

Fulcanelli smiled. "Your path is your path. My path is my path. Hopefully, they will be the same path."

"And if they're not?"

She rose from her chair. "Murmann trusted me. I hope that in time you will come to do so too. Please feel free to come to me with any problems you might have. I may be able to help you." She gave a quick unpleasant laugh. "Perhaps."

Viridis accepted the obvious dismissal, more than happy to leave the woman's presence. After a curt goodbye, he stalked out of the office and headed back down the hall. It was as he'd suspected. Fulcanelli wasn't any better at predicting the future than her predecessor. She was just better at coming up with excuses. He let out a long slow breath and relaxed. At least the meeting was over.

As he neared a turn in the corridor, he spotted a white object hanging from one of the wall torches. Puzzled, he changed directions to check it out. The object was a towel draped over the torch's metal support. He was still staring at the towel when Digby rounded the corner carrying a pitcher of water. He collided with Viridis and the pitcher tipped over, dumping water on the both of them.

"My apologies, headmaster," Digby said, scrambling to his feet. "I didn't realize anyone else was in this part of the castle."

"What are you doing here?" Viridis asked, shaking water off his shoes.

"Madame Fulcanelli asked me to bring her water."

"Fulcanelli?"

A soft cackle of laughter drifted down the hall from Fulcanelli's office, and Viridis suddenly remembered what she had said about an accident involving water.

Viridis turned back to Digby and began drying himself with the towel. "My first priority as the new headmaster will be to avoid Madame Fulcanelli for the rest of the year."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir," Digby said. "I understand completely.


End file.
